


Losing My Religion

by ohpleaselarry



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Crying, Cuddling, Denial, Depression, Fingering, Fluff, Gay Sex, Kissing, M/M, PTSD, READ TW IN NOTE, Religious Questioning, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, catholic!ethan, description of Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26822071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohpleaselarry/pseuds/ohpleaselarry
Summary: Ethan is a Catholic-raised fresh graduate with a traumatic past. Mark is a heavily inked 20-something who’s travelling the country in a streamer RV.Opposites attract, of course.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Markiplier/CrankGameplays
Comments: 56
Kudos: 343





	Losing My Religion

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER ⚠️ WARNING!!   
> This dic deals with depression and suicidal thoughts that stem from sexual assault. Rape is discussed in DETAIL and can be very triggering! I have had past sexual assault be a thing in previous fics but this one describes the act itself so I’ve tagged the warning. PLEASE don’t read if this can be triggering for you 💚
> 
> —•e/m•— = POV switch
> 
> This is officially my longest fic on this site. In my shadow fic I mentioned that it was rushed, so someone said they’d like to see a fully blown edited fic, so here it is. This took me AGES to write, so please check out the questions in the bottom note when you’re finished reading! 
> 
> Also, I have nothing against catholic’s or religion in general. Nearly everything in this fic discussing religion and sexual assault stem from my own personal experiences. 
> 
> Enjoy 💚

—•E•—

“Ethan, elbows off the table.” 

The boy blinks out of his daydream, removing his elbows from the table immediately. Mom nods once he’s obeyed, her mouth in a thin line. 

“Sorry, Mama.” He mumbles, eyes drifting once more. Andrew pushes his peas around in circles, mind elsewhere, and Dad frowns at the direction of the tv that can be heard from the den. His team is losing. It’s quiet as they eat. Always quiet. 

“If you’re not hungry, there’s dishes in the sink. You gotta stop the daydreaming, boy. Idle hands are the devils workshop.” Mom says. Ethan’s up immediately, taking his plate to the kitchen and starting on the dishes. 

As he scrubs, his mind floats away, back into his daydream despite his mother’s warning.

_ He’s a pirate on a ship, a captain. His crew spots an island ahead.  _

_ “Isle ahead, Cap’n!” _

_“Aye!” Ethan hollers back to the crows nest, and heaves the large wheel to turn the ship. The water splashes against the side of the ship, making everything slippery and hard to hold onto_ —

“Ah.” The boy hisses, blinking back to reality and looking down to find his finger is bleeding. He must’ve hit a knife in the sink. A drop of blood squeezes out of the tiny cut, and drops into the water. Ethan watches it swirl within the soap and down the drain. 

Distracted, he squeezes his fingers together, attempting to get more blood to drip out. 

“Now see? Idle hands, Ethan.” Mom steps into the kitchen with a frown and shoos him away, finishing the dishes himself. 

“Jus’ an accident.” Ethan mumbles, wishing she’d let him do anything on his own. Anything at all. 

“Off to bed, now. We have church tomorrow.” 

He knows already. Leaving out of the room, he pauses at the den doorway, finding dad and Andrew having a beer together. He wants to ask if he can join, but he knows the answer already.  _Maybe later, Ethan_. 

It’s always  _maybe later_ , and when later comes it’s still  _ maybe later.  _

He gets to his room and closes the door, though it’s pointless. There’s no doorknobs anyway. The door is simply there for when he’s getting changed. 

He changes into pyjamas and brushes his teeth, combing his long hair back into a band for sleeping, then he kneels down next to his bed, closes his eyes in prayer. 

“Father, please allow me to be happy tomorrow. In your name I pray, Amen.” He whispers the same thing he has for two years now. Always the same thing. Everything is always the same. Nothing changes. 

He wants to cry, but he shuts his light off and climbs into bed instead, dreading tomorrow. It’s not church itself. He loves to be around other people in his faith, loves to worship and sing the hymns. It’s Father George that he’s dreading to see. 

He shuts his eyes tighter and prays for peace tonight so he can sleep soundly. 

As usual, his prayers go unanswered. He doesn’t let it bother him. God is probably busy with more important issues, anyway. 

-

“I told you to sleep, boy.” Mom sighs when he steps out of the house with a yawn, the tie untied around his neck. She steps up and pulls on it harshly, angrily tying it for him. 

“Nightmares.” He puts shortly, tired and short tempered. She narrows her eyes at him. 

“If you have the same dream this many times, perhaps it would go away if you would stop thinking about it? I think I should get you a session with Father—“

“N-no, please. I’ll pray more. I’ll stop thinking about it.” Ethan begs, heart pounding and hands sweating at the thought of having to see him in that tiny confessional. Alone. 

“See, it’s not so hard! Mine over matter, little one.” 

He’s hardly little anymore. Hardly even close to little, but he holds his tongue and climbs into the station wagon. He leans his head on his palm and watches the trees fly by as Andrew talks to dad about his success in baseball. Always successful. 

“What about you, Ethan? You want to try out the glove I got you?” Dad asks, eyes on him through the rearview mirror. Andrew frowns at his slacks, picking at a loose thread as the spotlight shifts from him. It won’t be shifted for long. 

“Actually..I was wondering if I could use some of my allowance for watercolour.”

“Watercolour?”

“It’s a type of paint—“

“Will paint get you a scholarship?” Dad interrupts sternly. 

“Oh, leave him be. Everyone has a hobby.” Mom murmurs to dad. 

“Hobbies are side projects, not the kid’s whole world. He starts college in two months and has he even picked a major?” 

They argue on about it, about their failure of a son. Their non-sporty, bad at academics, artistic son. The opposite of his brother. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. They don’t hear him. He looks out of the window, too empty to cry at this point. They cross over the river, the water glistening in the early sun. It’s a pretty picture. 

He wonders what it would be like to jump from the bridge from way up here. He wonders if it would hurt. 

-

For a long time, church was his safe spot. The one place where nothing more than faith is expected of him. Where people smile and love him without knowing about his failures. He knows when it stopped being his safe space, but he can’t think about that now. 

Mind over matter, as Mom says. 

He used to listen intently during worship. Used to find it beautiful. The sun coming in through the stained glass windows, the silence as they kneel for their own private prayers, the creaking of the pews as everyone sits. 

Now, Ethan forces his mind away as church begins. Eyes on his lap, he closes his eyes when Father George begins to speak through his mic. His voice is loud through the speakers, so it’s impossible to not hear him even with how hard he’s daydreaming. 

He’s a pirate again, or a teacher abroad, or a singer on stage, but nothing he dreams of can erase the memories. Nothing he does can erase the turning of his stomach every time. 

His safe space has become his hell, and he doesn’t know where to feel safe anymore. Nothing feels safe anymore. 

As soon as it’s over, Ethan is tripping over himself to leave, barely giving himself enough time to dip his fingers in the holy water for the final sign of the cross as he leaves. 

“Alright, boys. You know the drill. Your father and I will have lunch with the Peterson’s. Ethan, you walk Andrew to practice and right back here.” Mom says it every Sunday despite the schedule not having changed for a month now. The only change is the weather that seemingly just gets hotter and hotter. 

He and Andrew start the walk to the baseball field that sits two blocks away. As usual, they don’t speak a word. Just the summer breeze and their shoes kicking along as they walk. 

“See ya.” Andrew says when they arrive, not even looking at him before he steps into the chainlink fence door, grin taking over his face as he greets his teammates. He doesn’t glance back even once. 

Ethan turns and starts on his way back, pace very slow and hands stuffed in his pockets. His parents won’t be finished with lunch for at least an hour, so he has time to find a nice spot to sit before they all meet back at the church to go home. 

He thinks he’ll go to the dog park today and watch the dogs chase each other around. He loves dogs. Their natural happiness, their trust and loyalty. It’s a nice change from people. He’s lost trust in people. 

Deep in thought, he doesn’t notice the breeze has knocked a large tree branch onto the sidewalk until he’s tripped over it and on the ground. 

“Ugh.” He groans, sitting up onto his bottom, hissing in pain as he straightens his legs. He finds three scrapes. Two on the heels of his hands and one that’s ripped through his slacks and onto his knee. Mom won’t be happy that he’s ripped his pants. 

He tries to stand but sits gingerly back down when his ankle sears in pain. He has no phone, no way to call his parents or Andrew. He’ll just have to wait and hope they come looking—

“Hey! You alright?!” 

Ethan looks up to see a guy running from the direction of the dog park, a large golden retriever trotting at his side. 

When he gets close enough, Ethan sees the type of person the man is. Besides the more basic things like his Asian descent and the black hair that flops over his face, Ethan sees the outfit, and more jarring, the tattoos. 

In this tiny town, he’s never seen someone like this in person. The tattoos look darker than he expected, a few littering over his left arm and a full arm of them on his right, no skin to be seen. He wears a pair of jeans and a shirt that reads “STURGIS” in large letters with skulls and fire surrounding it. 

“I-I’m okay.” Ethan lies, eyes wide as the dog steps right up to him and sniffs at him. 

“She won’t bite. Chica, sit.” The man crouches down next to him and takes his hands, looking at his scraps as the dog obeys, sitting patiently next to them. 

“Looked like you fell pretty hard. None of these need stitches but you should definitely get some peroxide on them. Can you stand?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Ethan attempts it, but he whines in pain as his ankle hurts again. 

“Okay, don’t move.” The man lifts the hem of his slacks to see his ankle as he takes a large touchscreen phone from his pocket and makes a call. 

“Come pick me up, I’m at the dog park down from the ice cream place...yeah...we’ll need to go to a clinic, I’ve got a kid with a sprained ankle...Alright cool.” He ends the call and looks back at him with a dazzling smile. 

“I’m Mark.” 

“Ethan.” 

They go to shake hands, but his palms are bleeding and gross. Mark chuckles and Ethan can’t help but do so as well, infected by this strange person who helps strangers in need despite his seemingly intimidating look. 

“I’ll give you a ride to a doctor so they can fix you up.”

“I’m fine, really. I just need to get back to James’ Catholic Church. It’s two blocks over on 7th.” 

Mark tilts his head like he’s confused, hand reaching to absentmindedly pet at his dog. Chica. Ethan wonders where the name comes from. 

“I feel ya. Health care is a bitch in this country. We’ll probably have a first aid in the RV anyway.” He curses so casually and it’s extremely jarring. Ethan can’t help but stare. Mark is like someone off of TV. Some sort that isn’t real. Or maybe Ethan just hasn’t been around real people very often. The only time he’s been out of town is when they occasionally drive thirty minutes to the Walmart in the next town over if there’s something they can’t get here. 

“Where are you from?” He asks shyly, unable to filter his curiosity. It’s always been a fault of his. Asking questions and thinking later. Mom says it’s a consequence for doing poorly in school. A lack of education, if you will. 

“California..I don’t look like a local?” 

“I-I’m sorry—“

“I’m joking. Of course I don’t. You’re the first person here who hasn’t started praying the second I look in your direction.” Mark grins like it’s funny, but Ethan can’t help but frown. He can’t imagine the people here being judgemental. Surely religion is to love and forgive, right? 

“That doesn’t sound like this town. Everyone’s so nice.”

“Sorry to be blunt, but you’re white and catholic, dude. Of course they’re nice to you.” 

Ethan looks away from Mark and to the dog park. He sees people he recognises. Neighbours, churchgoers, the waitress from the diner. They’re staring, talking to each other about them. Their expressions don’t look happy about it. 

“I’m sure you’re great, it’s just the tattoos. They can’t see past them.”

“And you can?” Mark smiles, eyes a beautiful brown in the afternoon sun. He’s quite nice to look at. Ethan immediately stops thinking that way. 

Once when he was seven, he liked a boy from school. The boy was kind and funny and sat next to him during school service. One day Ethan decided to write the boy a letter, asking him if he wants to hold hands during their next service. 

Mom found his letter while cleaning through his rucksack. He was sent to pray immediately, and didn’t get dinner that night. He learned quite quickly the consequences of homosexuality. 

When he went back to school, the boy had been switched to a different class and they never spoke again. 

A large vehicle pulls up next to them and distracts them both. 

It’s indeed an RV, but it’s painted in a very intense way. Bright blue with random designs on it that seem to be painted with regular old paint, chipping off with weather. 

“Here, let’s get you to that church.” Mark places his hands on Ethan’s elbows and helps him to stand. The door to the RV slams open and a girl with bright pink hair steps out. 

“You corrupting church boys now, Mark?” She asks, holding a camera with a big fuzzy microphone attached. 

“Fuck off, Alex, he’s got a sprained ankle.” Mark says, cursing so easily once more. He helps him into the RV, and Ethan hardly notices the pain with all of the wonder inside. 

The windows which were dark on the outside are lined with lights that slowly change colours simultaneously. Music that sounds like jazz plays through a speaker on the ceiling, where a disco ball of all things hangs, reflecting colourful squares all over the vehicle. There’s some sort of couch that lines the wall behind the drivers seat which curves in to form a C shape. In the middle sits a table. On that table lies a third person who seems to be asleep. 

“Evan, is there a first aid?” Mark asks once he sits Ethan onto the couch. 

“Toilet cabinet.” The man, Evan, calls from the drivers seat. Ethan holds onto the couch as the RV kicks into motion, watching the guy on the table press some sort of stick to his lips and then blow out a large cloud of smoke. He’s not asleep. 

“Want some?” The boy asks, turning his head like he’s sleepy to look at him. 

“What is it?” 

The girl, Alex, sits across the middle aisle in a seat that looks like an actual vehicle seat, talking to her phone. She must be on a call. 

“Vape. How sheltered  _are_ you people here?” The boy brings his attention back. He’s easily distracted. Another fault of his. 

“I-I—“

“Leave him alone, Tyler. At least he’s not plotting our murders like the last dude we helped.” Mark sits next to Ethan with a first aid kit and rummages through it. The group laughs, remembering something Ethan doesn’t know. 

“Alright, it’s gonna sting.” The man then turns to him and gently takes his hand, swiping a wet cloth over his scraps. Ethan bites on his lip to hide his expression of pain. For some reason, he feels like he should be tougher around these people. More interesting. Though, he doesn’t know how to do that. He’s extremely uninteresting. 

“Here.” Evan says from the drivers seat as they park at the church. It’s barely been thirty minutes since he’d left the building. Mom and dad won’t be done with lunch for a while. 

“Is your ride here?” Mark asks him quietly, finishing up his left hand and taking his right. 

“My parents will be done with lunch within the next hour or so.” 

“They didn’t bring you?” 

“I’m not good at table conversation.” It’s a small piece of the whole situation, but Mark fully stops cleaning his scraps and looks at him. 

“Your parents are the shitty level of bible-thumpers, aren’t they?” 

Ethan doesn’t know how to respond to that. His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head no, unsure what he’s disagreeing to but knowing the curse must mean it’s negative. 

“Let me guess..church every Sunday, graduated from a private catholic school, limited internet access, praying before meals, and picking and choosing which sins are okay?” 

Ethan shifts uncomfortably, never having heard his religion spoken of in such a way. With so much  _disgust_. He’s offended, suddenly, and he doesn’t own a brain to mouth filter. 

“You’re not very nice.”

“While that may be true sometimes, I believe you’re misunderstanding. I’m not saying you’re a shitty person, I’m just guessing where you come from. It’s the tattoos, isn’t it? That make me seem unkind?”

“It’s the cursing for me, actually. I don’t see you negatively because of the tattoos, even if it’s a sin.”

“So are your shoes.” Mark smirks, eyebrows raising challengingly. Ethan looks down at his ankle boots he’d gotten last Christmas and frowns. 

“My shoes?” 

“Wool and leather. A garment made from two different materials. Leviticus, if I remember correctly.” Mark reaches down and lifts Ethan’s leg onto his lap to clean the scrap on his knee. The boy frowns, recalling the verse now that it’s mentioned. 

“We don’t follow ancient verses. Some of them lost sense with time.” Ethan tries to convince, but Mark doesn’t lose his bemused smirk. 

“Like I said, picking sins. If some verses can be thrown out, why keep the hurtful ones?” He’s done cleaning his wounds, but Mark keeps a hand on his calf, eyes intensely staring into his with this debate. Ethan’s never had to defend his religion before. Never thought about it as anything but natural. The way of life. 

“Hurtful? No, the word is about love—“

“Unless you’re gay. Or have sex before marriage. Or get tattoos. Really, just think of something fun, I’m sure it’s outlawed somewhere in there.”

Ethan looks to his lap with a frown, unable to defend anymore. 

“I guess I don’t know that much. It’s just the way I was raised.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Mark looks like he actually does, eyes softening, hand squeezing his calf in understanding. Like Ethan’s a scared kid in a corner. 

“Well, I should wait for my parents.” He moves to stand, but Mark sets his leg down and stops him, hand on his arm. He’s a touchy sort. 

“We can wait with you. It must be at least 95 degrees outside. Just wait in here with the air conditioning.” 

So they wait for a while. Ethan fiddles his thumbs and watches the group here interact. Alex keeps messing with her phone call, talking about random things and answering questions nobody else can hear being asked. Tyler keeps lying on the table and occasionally puffing smoke from the weird stick. Evan sits in the drivers seat on his phone, and Mark just sits with him, on his own phone. 

Once again, Ethan’s never been good at keeping his curiosity at bay. 

“Why do you hate catholics?” 

“I don’t  _hate_ them as a people. I hate hypocrisy, and religion is full of it.” Mark narrows his eyes at him thoughtfully and then he navigates through his phone then hands it to Ethan. 

“Here, add your number so we can talk when I leave.” 

“I-I dont..”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I mean I don’t have a phone. We have a desktop computer at home for the internet.” His voice gets smaller as he talks when everyone is the vehicle suddenly looks at him. 

“Holy shit, this kid’s living in 2005.” Tyler says blearily. 

“Um, I should wait outside anyway. My parents wouldn’t like to find me in a strangers vehicle.” Ethan chews on his lip nervously as everyone looks at him. 

“Technically not strangers anymore, but sure, here hold onto my shoulder.” Mark stands up and helps him up, then out of the RV, arm around his waist. 

Once he’s sat on the bench outside, the man hesitates like he’d rather stay. 

“Okay, prop it up on a pillow when you get home and put ice on it so it doesn’t swell up too much. It seems to be super mild, though, so it should be completely healed in a week, maybe even a few days.”

“Alright. Thank you for helping me.” Ethan says. Mark nods, backing up to the RV. He keeps looking back. 

Once the guy is back in the vehicle, Ethan feels a sense of disappointment. That was probably the most interesting group of people he’s met in his life, and he doubts they’re sticking around here much longer. Now it’s back to his boring regular life. 

“Hey, one more thing.” Mark suddenly steps out of the RV again, and up to him, handing him a piece of paper with an address written in red ink. 

“We’re leaving day after tomorrow, but there’s a party tonight. The reason we’re here. Come, if you can. When I was younger I used to sneak out of my window, if you think you won’t get permission.” He winks and then jumps back into the RV before Ethan can reply. 

He blinks in surprise, watching the RV roll away and out of the church lot. Looking down at the paper, he recognises the address. It’s a rather small town so everybody knows everybody. 

He doesn’t think there’s anything in the bible about sneaking out. Right? Well, it’s deception. It’s lying if they ask about the night. It’s a party, which probably means underage drinking. Then again, this group is leaving day after tomorrow. Then everything will be back to normal. He’d love to have more memories to cherish in his boring day to day. 

Besides, his parents don’t seem to care as long as he gets a “real” degree this fall. 

-

They don’t even notice his wounds. 

His parents pull up in front of him and don’t look to see his limping as he gets to the car. They don’t ask him what he did while they ate and they don’t look back to see his hands or knee. When they pick up Andrew on the way home, the family talks about his baseball practice and his brother doesn’t look over even once. 

He tries not to let it get to him. 

-

It’s an understatement to say he’s never snuck around before. 

Sure, he did poorly in school, but he didn’t  _fail_ everything. He was pretty average and got his diploma without too much fuss. Going to a catholic school in a small town, there weren’t friends to be made in the first place. No friends means no social gatherings to even ask permission for. 

The one thing he did was a graduation party at the local diner, and his parents got every person’s number and name, and he was on a strict curfew. Home by 6. 

He doesn’t even have a doorknob on his door, but he can hear his father’s snores down the hall as he closes it anyway. He just has to hope they don’t wake up and check on him. Though, why would they? He doesn’t  _do_ anything. 

They live in a simple one story house, so climbing out of his window is an easy task with minimal effort. He closes his window behind himself as to not let bugs in, and starts the walk to the Walker house. 

Barry Walker graduated four years ago from the public school. He’s going to the college here. Pre-law, if Ethan remembers correctly. His parents are partners for some photography magazine, so they’re always travelling. Him throwing a party isn’t a surprise whatsoever. He’s always up to something, and keeping straight A’s as he does. 

Ethan is nervous, and the walk isn’t so great on his ankle, though the pain definitely has gone down since earlier. It really wasn’t that bad of a sprain. He’s approaching the house within twenty minutes, and is relieved to spot Mark immediately, leaning against his group’s RV with a red plastic cup, staring up at the sky. Either he’s not up for the party or he’s waiting. 

“Hey.” Ethan says once he’s close enough, fiddling with his bracelet. Mark’s changed into a button down with little flamingos scattered over a navy fabric. Ethan feels underdressed in his jeans and grey t-shirt, but it’s sort of all he had for casual wear. 

“Ethan! Was hoping you’d show!” Mark grins and steps away from the RV and circles an arm around him in a hug. 

“Are you drinking?” Ethan asks warily. The man chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Nah, can’t drink,” he suddenly lifts up his shirt to reveal a large scar from his bellybutton up his torso. Ethan stares, throat suddenly dry, “last time I drank they found a tumour.” 

He’s grinning like it’s hilarious. Ethan can’t help but be shocked at how casual he is just all the time. 

“A tumour like cancer?”

“Nah it’s all gone now. It’s just coke, see.” He brings his cup up so Ethan can smell it. The boy does, unable to keep a smile at bay. He was wondering if he would feel regretful at sneaking out, but Mark is such a weirdly interesting guy that he’s glad he came. 

“I’ve never been to a real party.” Ethan admits shyly, glancing over at the house. He can hear the music from out here. 

“I’ll show you what’s up, then.” Mark offers a hand. It’s strange, but Ethan figures the best way to get along with someone like him is to just go with it. So he does, letting Mark tangle their fingers together and lead him into the party. 

It smells awful, it’s sort of hard to see, and the music has no words or much of a rhythm, but that doesn’t seem to stop the partygoers. There’s more short skirts and men with open shirts than he’s ever seen in his life. People are dancing grotesquely on each other. Some people kiss each other against the walls. It’s quite literally a room full of sin. 

It would horrify his mother. Ethan feels excited. 

“This is the dance floor, where the sluts go to twerk their way into the pants of college dropouts.” Mark says over the music. 

“Twerk?” Ethan replies, bewildered. Mark laughs like it was a joke and leads him to a kitchen. 

“Here’s where you only take a closed drink unless you want to be roofied. Number one rule of life once you move out. Never take an open drink.” 

“Roofied is when you’re drugged?” Ethan guesses. Mark squeezes his hand, their fingers still held together. It’s a nice feeling. 

“Correct. Alright, back past the kitchen is the backyard with the pool. Upstairs are toilets to cry in or bedrooms for premarital sex. So, you want a drink?” He takes his soft hand away and opens a cooler on the counters. There’s various bottles and canned drinks. Ethan doesn’t know what the party etiquette is here. Does he drink? Is he still cool if he doesn’t? He’s underage. It’s against the law, and it’s a sin. 

He’s already broken rules tonight. Surely he won’t go to hell for one drink. Mark is leaving the day after tomorrow. Ethan should allow himself this one day. He can pray for forgiveness tomorrow. Right? 

“You really don’t have to drink alcohol if you don’t want. There’s sodas too. I’m sure you haven’t drank before.” 

“No, I want to. I’m just not sure what to choose.” 

Mark hums and reaches into the cooler, pulling out a dark bottle, twisting the metal cap off and handing it to him. 

“Beer tastes like shit, but this is a relatively tasty one for your first time. Green apple.” 

Ethan turns the bottle and looks at the nutrition facts out of habit. Mark looks confused. 

“I have a peanut allergy. You’d be surprised how many non-peanut foods and drinks are exposed to it.” Ethan explains. Mark nods, taking his wrist. 

“Oh right, an allergy bracelet. I should’ve realised that’s what it was.” 

Ethan’s properly distracted by Mark’s fingers on his wrist, touching at his bracelet. He forgets he’s supposed to be trying the beer until Mark raises an eyebrow at him, smile playing at his lips. 

“Change your mind?” The man asks, motioning to the bottle. Ethan clears his throat and holds the bottle to his nose to smell the drink, eyebrows furrowing. 

“No, I’m doing it.” 

It actually does smell like apples, as the name suggests. Ethan’s only experience with alcohol is the small sips of wine he has during holy communion at church. The blood of Christ. It usually tastes rather bitter but not terrible. 

He just goes for it, tipping the bottle back and having a sip. Surprisingly, it doesn’t taste awful. It tastes like apples and something that he figures must be beer. It’s not like drinks he’s had before. Sort of like a strong apple juice. 

“It’s good.” He says. Mark grins, leaning against the counter. 

“What now?” Ethan asks, holding the drink against his chest and looking around the party, eyes wide at the sea of people. 

“Whatever you want. We can dance, or go swim, or we can fuck off somewhere else if it’s too overwhelming.” His cursingis less shocking each time it happens. 

“I don’t know how to dance.” 

“Finish your drink and I’ll show you. Once you set it down you don’t want to drink it again.”

“Because of the roofied?”

“Roofies, but yes.” Mark doesn’t seem interested in the party, eyes on him as he drinks. It makes him nervous to know he’s being watched, but excited at the same time. His heart has yet to calm down since he arrived. 

Ethan gets it down to just one last quarter and sets it back onto the counter, deciding it’s enough. He feels full of drink, and his fingertips are tingling. 

“Are you staying with me?” 

“Of course.”

“I don’t mean to keep you from your friends—“

“Ethan, I invited you here. I’m not gonna ditch you at your first party. Actually, it’s nice to be away from my friends for a while.” He shakes his head fondly and places a hand on his lower back, bringing him into the group of people dancing and stopping somewhere in the middle. 

Ethan looks around, trying to figure out who to copy, but everyone seems to be doing their own things, jumping around or pressing against each other out of rhythm. 

“Don’t think about it too much, just do what feels right!” Mark says over the loud music, then he starts to do a rather funny dance with his hands over his head. 

Ethan giggles and copies along, feeling ridiculous but having fun. They dance like that for a few minutes, and then Mark takes his hand and spins him. He feels more off balance than usual, but it just makes the man laugh. When the song ends, it’s replaced with just another fast beat wordless song. A never-ending dance party. The physical movement isn’t very helpful for his digestion. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” He asks loudly. Mark nods and stops his silly dancing, bringing him away from the dance floor and up a set of stairs. He finds the bathroom easily as if he’s been here before or something. 

“It’s the beer, especially if you’re a lightweight. I’ll wait out here.” He grins like some unspoken joke has been said. 

Ethan steps inside and does his business, and looks at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands. He looks just as frazzled as he feels, his long hair falling out of his band and into his face. He combs water through it and fixes it back up more cleanly. 

When he steps outside, Mark is on his phone. The man locks it and slides it into his pocket, looking at him thoughtfully. 

“I’m going to be honest, parties aren’t really my favourite things. Want to do something else?” 

“Like what?” 

“Dunno. There’s a park down the road. Never too old for a nice swing.” 

Ethan smiles, thankful that Mark feels the same way. The party is fun and all, but definitely loud and a bit overwhelming, especially on the senses. 

They leave the house and walk out into the quiet night. It must be nearing one in the morning. Ethan yawns, not usually one for staying up late, obviously. 

“If you get too tired let me know and I’ll take you home.” 

“No, I’m having fun, I’m just not used to it.” 

Mark looks up at the sky again as they walk, hands occasionally bumping into each other. It makes Ethan’s heart skip every time. He feels too nice to remember his mother’s warnings about these kinds of thoughts. It’s just him and Mark tonight. No churches with evil priests and no family who can’t see him. 

“You’re questioning, aren’t you?” Mark asks, glancing at him away from the sky. They walk slowly, as if neither of them want to leave this lovely stroll. 

“Questioning what?” 

“You’re religion. I assume that’s why you came tonight and why you drank. It didn’t seem to take much persuasion on my end.” 

“It’s not exactly that. I just needed to get away. Haven’t had the chance to do that before.” 

“Get away from what?” Mark’s eyebrows furrow. Ethan isn’t sure exactly how to go about this conversation, and he isn’t sure he wants to fully get into it right now, either. 

“My family can be...hurtful sometimes. I don’t think they do it intentionally, but it’s gotten worse after I graduated and still don’t have a degree picked out.” 

“What do you want to do?” Mark asks as they arrive at the park. He holds the chain link gate open for him and they step inside, walking on the rubber mulch to the swings. 

“I like to paint and I’m terrible at academics. My brother is pre-med and in the college baseball team.” 

“They don’t support the arts?” 

“My father says art won’t create a sustainable career. I will probably end up going to trade school.” 

Mark frowns as they sits at the swings. Neither of them do much more than sway. Ethan kicks at the mulch below their feet, feeling down with the conversation. 

“Is that why you’re unhappy?” 

“I-I’m not..” Ethan blinks in surprise, unable to allow the lie to slip from his lips. Mark looks at him sadly. He doesn’t look judgmental. He’s quite good at reading people, apparently. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to figure out why someone like you isn’t blissfully happy.” 

“Is it normal to feel happy all the time for no reason?” Ethan asks, genuinely wondering. 

“No, but it’s not normal to feel the way you do either.”

“You don’t even know me.” 

“I’ve been depressed before, I know what it looks like.” 

Ethan’s never heard the word said in anyway other than disgust before. Where he comes from, depression is like a virus in the mind. A result of sinning and no repent. He’s heard his mom say once that people who claim to be depressed have lost their faith. 

He’s always believed his mother. Up until two years and three months ago. 

“I’m not sad because of my faith.”

“But are you happy because of it?”

Ethan would have said yes a week ago, but after meeting Mark, he’s not so sure anymore. He wipes at his eyes, suddenly feeling emotional. He’s prayed every night for happiness and it’s been left unanswered for this long. Why would God send happiness in the form of this sinning non-believer? Perhaps God didn’t have any work in the action at all. Perhaps nobody listens to a sad 18 year old in a town with more cattle than people. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Mark turns in his swing and hooks their legs together so they’re facing each other, suspended in the swings, then he places a hand on the knee that’s not scraped comfortingly. 

“You didn’t..I just didn’t realise how bad it got until I had fun tonight.” 

“You’re crying but enjoying yourself?” Mark huffs a laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Ethan follows along, wiping his tears away as he laughs. 

“Yeah, I suppose so. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t complain when I’m more fortunate than others.”

“Hey, don’t do that. You’re allowed to feel like shit and still help the less fortunate. Besides, I like that you’re opening up to me. I gotta learn everything before I leave.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Ethan taps his foot against the man’s calf and frowns. 

“Why do you need to learn everything?” 

“Dunno. You’re interesting. You saw passed the tattoos and you were going to a dog park without a dog for some reason.” 

Ethan blushes, suddenly aware of their legs touching so much and Mark’s hand on his knee. He hasn’t had male friends, so he isn’t sure if this amount of physical contact is normal, or if Ethan’s brain is just filled with those sinful thoughts his mother desperately tried to pray away. 

Deep down, he knows they never left. 

“ _You_ think  _I’m_ interesting? Lying is a sin, you know.” He’s not ignorant to humour. Mark laughs, and the sound is joyful. It fills Ethan’s heart just like it has all of the times he’s laughed tonight. It’s jarring to realise that after such a long time in the dark, making someone laugh is what brings the happiness back up. He’d forgotten what it feels like. It seems like such a small thing, but it’s monumental. Mark brought the happiness back, just from talking to him. 

“Why are you staying in an RV?” He decides to ask. He can relate to wanting to know everything, except Mark is the one who’s actually interesting here. 

“Have you heard of Twitch?”

“Like the body movement?”

“Different meaning, but yeah. It’s a live streaming service. I don’t know how lenient your internet allowances are..”

“I’ve heard of live-streaming. Haven’t seen it myself.” Ethan says. Mark seems so careful not to offend him by assuming he doesn’t know something. It’s rather kind. 

“Alright, well I’m fortunate enough to have a bit of a following, along with my friends you met earlier. So we are going on a summer trip around the country and streaming our experiences. That’s what Alex was doing on her phone.” 

Ethan’s a tad confused, but he sort of gets it. Like live news but for an RV trip, he supposes. Mark lives an interesting life. 

“What do you do for work?” He asks. Surely they have to buy gas and food, and travelling the country doesn’t scream ‘stable career’ to him. 

“Well, there’s donations. People pay money to have whatever they want spoken through a speaker. Then there’s subscribers. They pay monthly for emotes or perks and don’t get ads—I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” Mark smiles sheepishly. Ethan tries to act like he understands but clearly falls short. He giggles, untangling their feet and standing up to distract from his lack of understanding. 

“Wanna check out the slide?” He asks, wondering if Mark will think he’s immature. 

“God, yes.” The man thankfully hops up and then they’re climbing through the children’s large wooden play structures, chasing each other through enclosed tunnels and across suspended bridges, all the way up to the tallest slide. 

Mark sits at the landing at the top, and Ethan slides down across from him. Their knees touch. 

“So classic strict bible thumper parents. I’m going to assume they haven’t allowed you a proper love life?” 

“They’ve never had to set any rules for that, actually..” Ethan laughs humourlessly. Mark frowns, leaning back against the wooden boards. 

“You’ve never dated anyone? Surely you’ve kissed someone at least?” Mark sounds sympathetic, like kissing someone is the best thing in the world. Ethan wouldn’t know. 

“Nope.” 

Mark frowns and leans forward, hand settling on Ethan’s ankle between them. He smiles, eyes dark. 

“I can show you, if you’d like.” He says lowly, hair falling over his forehead. He combs it back over his head, bicep flexing. Ethan gulps dryly and leans forward to meet him in the middle, heart racing. 

“Show me what?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. Mark lifts his free hand and cups his cheek, pulling him closer. 

“Close your eyes.” 

Ethan complies, waiting nervously for something to happen. His brain is fuzzy, but somewhere in there he still remembers what his actions mean. Remembers his mother mentioning eternal damnation and a mortal life without true love. 

Their lips touch, and Ethan is kissed for the first time. Mark is gentle, just a sweet closed mouth kiss. 

More than those thoughts of eternity in hell, Ethan thinks about how quickly his heart is pounding. The excitement he feels as they kiss. These happy feelings he hasn’t felt in his years in the dark. Mark actively pulls him away from his sadness with every minuscule touch. 

The man starts to pull away. Ethan reaches up blindly and clutches his t shirt, keeping him there as their lips part. 

“Ethan—“

“M-more.” The boy pleads, desperate to stay in this moment as long as possible. 

Mark doesn’t take too much persuasion. He reaches between them and circles his arms around Ethan’s waist, pulling him up onto his lap. When they kiss again, it’s open mouthed. It’s need and it’s nearly desperate. 

Ethan can’t describe the feeling. For the first time in his life, he feels like he isn’t doing something wrong. 

Years of growing up and making bad grades and worse physical marks, he’s used to being told he could do more. That he’s not using his “full potential”. Even only one month after graduating, he’s overheard his parents asking themselves where they went wrong. How they did so well with Andrew and fell so short with him. Andrew who made perfect grades and dated the perfect girl and made choir at church. 

Cramped at the top of the slide with Mark, he feels  _something_ for the first time. Ecstatic. Overwhelming want for more. 

Mark makes a noise and they separate once more. He tucks loose strands of Ethan’s long hair behind his ears and holds him sweetly. 

“Fuck, I leave tomorrow.” He whispers breathlessly. Ethan holds onto his t shirt tightly, refusing to let go. 

“I’m going to hell.” The boy replies, panicky. 

Mark takes his shaky hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Come with me. Leave your shitty family and come travel the country.”

“M-Mark—“

“We’re going to Florida next. Only five hours from here. I can show you everything. So much more than you have here. You won’t have to worry about anything at all.”

“I can’t! We just met yesterday!” 

“Are you okay with never seeing each other again?” Mark asks bluntly. Ethan exhales shakily, eyes searching his. The thought of never seeing him..just the thought..

“I just can’t. My family is here. I’m supposed to start college this fall—“

A shrill ringing interrupts the conversation. Mark huffs and digs his phone out of his pocket, answering the call. 

“I’m at the park...No, Alex has the keys...alright.” He hangs up, shaking his head, but Ethan catches his wrist, eyes wide on the time. 

“Is that time correct?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Oh no, I need to go! My dad’s alarm goes off in seven minutes!” Ethan scrambles off of Mark’s lap and quickly slides down the slide. 

“Ethan! Wait!” The man slides after him and takes his arm before he can run off, “we will leave from that petrol station by the courthouse at eleven, if you change your mind.” 

“I really can’t be caught out, my parents—“

“I know, I just don’t want to let you go.” Mark breathes heavily like he’s anxious. Ethan steps up onto his tiptoes and kisses him once more, eyes glossy. 

“You’ll forget me soon enough. Goodbye.” He squeezes Mark’s hand and backs away, memorising every inch of the man’s devastated expression, and then he turns, taking off into a run. 

He can only hope to be able to sprint home on his worn ankle and sneak back inside before his father wakes for his early chores. 

—•M•—

Alex wakes up first, tripping out of her bunk and startling when she sees him sat at the table, joint in hand. 

“We’re supposed to keep that in the stash until we get back to legal states, remember?” She chastises him but reaches out to take it from him, relishing in her inhale of the drug. 

“I think I met my soulmate and I’m never gonna see him again.” Mark confesses. Admittedly, he’s weak. 

“Soulmate? That’s a loaded ass word, especially for you. Are you talking about that little church boy?” 

“Yeah.” Mark mumbles, heart aching for his little church boy. The clumsy little catholic who literally stumbled into his life and shifted his entire mindset. 

“I figured you’d hookup, but soulmate? Shit, Mark, did you sleep last night?” She settles into the couch next to him and touches at the circles under his eyes. 

“No..and we didn’t hookup. We only kissed.” His heart skips a beat just remembering their kisses. How nervous the boy was, how he tugged on his shirt so they wouldn’t stop. His eyes, dilated, when they pulled apart. 

Mark feels like he might cry. He frowns and takes the joint back from Alex, desperately trying to get high as quickly as possible. 

“That’s all it took? You in love with him or something? I’ve never seen you like this before.” 

“Well I’ve never felt like this either. I didn’t even need to kiss him to feel like this. Fuck, I asked him to ditch his family and run away with us, Alex.” He laughs at his own silliness. She smiles, rubbing at his back. 

“Yeah, that’s a bit dramatic. Hey, I bet a nice shower will help you. Nobody’s been in yet, the water should be nice and hot.” 

“Hot enough to burn my memory of this town so I can forget about him?” 

“Not that hot, but you’ll move on eventually, c’mon.” 

With a sigh, Mark stands up to have a shower. His knees ache from sitting for so long, and his heart aches even more. 

-

“Oh my god. Mark, is that the kid?” Evan says from the drivers seat as they roll into the petrol station to fill up before continuing the trip. 

He’s up at once, all exhaustion leaving way for adrenaline as he leans down to look out of the front windshield. It’s barely 10:30, but the boy is sat curled up on a bench outside of the building. He’s wearing a hoodie despite the heat outside and if Mark didn’t spend all of their shared hours last night staring at him, he might’ve mistaken the ball of a human for a homeless person. 

Instantly, he’s slamming out of the RV and sprinting across the parking lot. Ethan lifts his head from his knees at the sound of his slapping footsteps and he smiles wobbily, arms stretching up like a baby. 

Mark crouches down and pulls him into a hug, and his mind is clear once more. He holds the boy close, relief flooding through him. 

“God, tell me you aren’t just saying goodbye—“

“Take me away from here, as far away as we can go.” Ethan pleads. Mark pulls away from the hug and lifts the boy to his feet, tangling their fingers together and taking him back to the RV, too excited to notice the judgemental staring. Can’t see anything but his boy. 

“Okay, there’s plenty of room if you’d like your own bunk, but there’s two larger beds if—“

“W-wait, Mark,” Ethan stops him before they can reach the door of the RV. Evan looks at them questioningly from the pump, “I don’t want your friends to dislike me. I don’t want to be a burden.” 

Mark frowns, eyebrows furrowing as he calms down enough to actually look the boy over. Tear tracks, dirt on his shoes, shaky hands. Notably empty hands, as well. 

“You didn’t bring clothes?” 

“I didn’t have time to grab any.” 

“..Was your dad awake when you got home?” 

All at once, Ethan’s face breaks and he nods, tears filling his eyes. Mark opens up the RV and leads him inside away from the staring townspeople. Once they’re in, he pulls the boy to his chest and holds him as he cries. Alex stands up from her seat, muting her stream with a frown. Tyler peeks his head out from his bunk in the back. 

“You’re safe here, love. Shh.” Mark mumbles, moving Ethan’s hood down and combing through his long hair. Usually up in a ponytail, it lies down flat and tangled, the strands reaching his upper back. 

Eventually, Evan steps back into the RV and sits at the couch. Ethan’s crying fades to occasional sniffles, until finally he pulls away and rubs at his eyes with his fists. Even with the pink cheeks and the tears, he’s unfairly cute. Mark can’t keep himself away, touching the boy’s arm as he composes himself. 

“Wanna sit?” Ethan nods and follows him to the couch they’d sat at yesterday when they’d just met. It feels like years ago. 

When Ethan sits, he hisses in unmistakable pain, cheeks flushing red and hands curling into fists. His eyes stay on his lap like he’s ashamed. It doesn’t take much guessing. 

“Are you bleeding?” Mark asks, crouching onto the floor in front of him, stomach turning with rage. 

“No, he used his belt. Just bruises.” 

“Just?” Mark huffs angrily, feeling an undeniable urge to murder anyone who caused this boy even an ounce of pain. 

“He was punishing me and kept saying he was going to set up private studies with our p-priest. So I ran. I didn’t have time to grab anything but this hoodie. It was hanging at the front door. I ran here and decided to wait. I didn’t want to risk looking for where you were parked and running into him.” There’s part of the story he’s leaving out, something that’s caused the emotional drainage Mark noticed yesterday. A reason he’s depressed. He doesn’t ask now. Not in front of everyone. Tyler slides into the passenger seat and the vehicle kicks into motion. Ethan winces as he’s jostled. Mark doesn’t dare ask the man to stop driving. The sooner they leave the better. 

“Okay, well it’s a little too hot for a hoodie, can we take it off? We can’t shower while it’s moving and I don’t want you to get all sweaty.” 

Ethan nods and lifts his arms so Mark can pull the hoodie off of him. He finds the hidden reasons the boy was wearing it. 

Finger shaped bruises curl around his forearm, like he was pulled or maybe held down roughly. Mark exhales to keep his anger at bay and gently uncurls Ethan’s fists. He’s cut little crescent moons into his already scraped palms. Anxiety or fear. 

“Come on, let’s get you a change of clothes.” 

In the back of the RV, Mark sits him on the master bed that lies under the circle of windows and pulls his trunk from the cabinet next to it. Inside, he picks out a pair of joggers and one of his comfiest t shirts. 

“Here, the joggers have strings if they’re too big, and the shirt is my own brand. Soft on the skin so it won’t hurt..Ethan can I see? I’m worried it might be worse than bruises.” Mark finds it hard to stay focused on finding clothes when the boy is making a face every time they hit a bump in the road. 

“I don’t want you to think of me differently.”

“I won’t, of course I won’t. I just want to make sure you’re okay. An infection is a bitch, especially on the road.” 

Ethan chews on his lip and nods, fingers fumbling together nervously, eyes down the open vehicle where everyone sits. Mark turns and pulls the privacy curtain closed. 

“Okay, lets get changed first.” Mark leans down and takes the hem of Ethan’s shirt, pausing, “okay?”

“Okay.” The boy lifts his arms so Mark can take his shirt off. He’s skinny, just a tad too much for his age. Mark’s left to wonder just how many nights he wasn’t allowed dinner. Who knows what the fuck went on in that house. 

He checks his chest and back, but it’s clear of bruises, thankfully. Just the one on his arm. Ethan pulls the Cloak shirt on and stands up, fingers shaky at his waistband. The RV hits a bump and he nearly loses his balance, clutching Mark’s arm to keep himself up. 

“Almost done.” He says, then helps Ethan out of the shorts he’s wearing and into the comfortable joggers. 

“It’ll be better if you lay down, okay? Safer.” 

The boy nods and lies on his stomach, arms curled up under himself like he’s scared. Mark wishes he could make that go away. 

“I’m going to pull the pants down now, love. Tell me if you want me to stop and I will. Good?”

“Yes.” 

So Mark slips his fingers under Ethan’s waistband and pulls the pants down to just under his ass, breath catching at the sight. The ‘just bruises’ seem to be licks to be more precise. He was hit with the belt hard enough that it’s taken skin off. Skid marks, sort of. Almost like burns across his skin. There must be at least ten of the wounds, shiny due to lack of skin but not deep enough to bring up blood. They’re surrounded by dark horrid bruises. 

“Fuck..okay, I’m going to get the first aid kit, don’t move.” Mark stands up and pushes past the curtain to grab the kit from its spot in the overhang cabinet. Everyone’s looking at him, even Tyler is taking peaks in the mirror from the drivers seat. 

“What happened?” Evan asks. Mark then realises he’s nearly in tears. He’s never been so pissed off in his life. 

“Don’t take me back to that town or I will commit first degree murder.” He says shortly, and strolls back to the room with the first aid kit. 

Ethan shivers on the bed, eyes squeezed closed. Mark settles next to him and gently pets over his lower back. 

“I need to rub this ointment over the marks. Is that okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He goes slowly but quick enough to get it over with. Ethan clutches the sheets and winces at every touch. It doesn’t take too long, as he’s rather small. 

“Okay, stay there until it dries..are you okay?” Mark packs up the first aid kit and sets it next to them, gently replacing Ethan’s pants over his bum. 

“Y-yeah.” He answers, voice as shaky as his body is. He’s either cold or scared. Mark can only hope to fix both. 

“C’mere.” He moves over on the bed and has Ethan lay down. Mark reaches down and pulls the light blanket over him. On his stomach, Ethan finally relaxes, no longer in so much pain. He closes his eyes, breathing all shaky. God. 

“Did you sleep on that bench?”

“No.” 

“Okay, try to sleep now. We should be in Florida at our next stop in about five hours. Here, I’ll make it darker.” He stands and releases the curtains over the back windows surrounding the bed so it’s not as bright. Ethan clutches the pillow and tries to sleep, eyebrows furrowed. Mark sits next to him and gently combs through his hair, hoping the movement of the RV will lull him asleep. 

“We’re about an hour out. You should sleep too.” Evan comments when Mark steps out from the privacy curtain, rubbing at his eyes, stuffy from crying. Nobody is streaming anymore, thankfully. 

“I tried but I don’t want him to wake up to me asleep. Sorry, I probably should’ve asked you guys if he could join. I wasn’t even thinking about it—“

“You serious? You think we’d say no to a kid who’s clearly been through hell?” Alex shakes her head and pulls him into a hug. It’s nice. He needed a hug after all of that. He feels so distraught over this- he can’t even imagine how Ethan feels. 

“I just want to move on with the trip. Help him forget about that town. We parking at the beach?”

“You, Mark Fischbach, want to park at the beach?” 

Mark shrugs, looking through the mini fridge for some caffeine, cheeks pinking. 

“I just don’t think he’s been. Wanna show him some pretty shit so he feels—shut the fuck up.” He frowns at Evan and Alex’s shared look. Waggling eyebrows and all. 

“You’re proper hooked, dude. Can’t wait to see you when you’re in love with him.” 

“Fuck off, don’t freak him out.” Mark waves at them to be quiet and walks back to the master bed with a bottle of coffee. Ethan’s still fast asleep when he returns, the furrow of his eyebrows and his sad frown faded with unconsciousness. 

Mark settles back onto the bed and tucks some fallen strands of his long hair back, a soft smile adorning his lips. 

‘When you’re in love with him’ his friends had teased. As if he doesn’t feel like he’s already fucking there. 

-

They’ve been parked for forty-five minutes when Ethan wakes up. The boy sits up and reaches up to rub his eyes, stopping short when he sees his hands, scraped and cut by his fingernails. He sets his hands back down and looks to Mark, the calm expression he wore for his nap giving way to worry again. Sadness. Walls going up by the second. Mark offers a smile. 

“Regretting running away?” He asks, hoping the answer is no. He’s sort of already deeply attached, and he doubts he could make friends with the boy’s family. 

“No. Where are we?” He sits up, blanket falling from his shoulders, and pulls the curtain aside to peek outside, eyes narrowing at the evening light. 

“Destin, Florida. Nice and far from your town. There’s many shops here so I was thinking we could go get you some clothes if you’re up for it?” 

Ethan stares out of the window, teeth worrying his lip. 

“I don’t have money.” 

“I don’t expect you to.”

Ethan frowns and climbs out of the bed, no expression of pain surfacing. The ointment should’ve helped tremendously. He slides his trainers back on and stretches his arms over his head, shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of skin. Mark watches intently. 

“Where’s everyone else?” 

“Shopping, streaming the beach, whatever. We sort of branch off when we hit a new place unless we have some group thing we wanna do.” Mark stands up with him and fights the urge to pull him close and ask him if he’d like to have another kiss sometime. 

He needs to take it slow, he reminds himself. Ethan’s definitely in a state and was in a state even before they first kissed. Adding on romantic complications won’t help him out. It’d be selfish. Looking past his mental issues for a few minutes of pleasure. He just can’t let himself do it. 

But god, does he think about it. 

Ethan is just obliviously attractive in the craziest ways. How his eyelashes fall over his cheeks, how he fidgets with the hem of his shirt when their eyes meet, how he chews on his lower lip when he’s thinking about something. 

“Don’t you want to do your stream or whatever? I don’t want to mess up your schedule.” He’s sweet, even if he barely knows what streaming even is. 

“I don’t have a schedule, I just do it when I want. Come on, you need clothes and at least your own toothbrush.” Mark opens up the door to the RV and sighs at the evening sun, nice and hot against their skin. The south is rather humid, but it’s not bad today, especially with it being closer to sunfall than noon. 

Ethan steps outside and looks around anxiously. There’s people about, shopping at the stores close by or walking towards the beach a few minutes away. The waves are audible from here, despite not being visible. 

“Hey, you don’t have to see anyone from that town again, okay? You can relax.” Mark locks the RV, watching Ethan take a breath and nod. They walk their way to the shops just down the road. There’s a rather nice thrift store right near a CVS, so he figures it should work out fine. 

Ethan looks around in wonder, eyes wide at the people and the buildings. Mark wants to take his hand just in case he accidentally walks away, but doesn’t want to push his boundaries. 

“Okay, lets go for at least ten outfits. We usually don’t stop at a laundromat but once a week, so you’ll want a weeks worth, plus extras just in case..” Ethan looks a bit overwhelmed, eyes wide over the huge thrift store, “okay, let’s just start with your sizes. Shirt, pants, shoes.” 

“I-um..medium?” 

Mark smiles sadly at him and takes a cart from the corral, figuring they’ll need it. 

“Alright, we’ll try things on and see what your sizes are.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault.” Mark takes his hand and settles it into the side of the cart so he’ll follow along, and makes his way over to the shirts first. 

About an hour in, they’ve got ten shirts, five bottoms, a pack of briefs, some pjs, a case to pack it all in, and a pair of converse so he doesn’t have to wear his trainers every day. 

It adds up to about $50. Ethan’s mouth is set in a fine line as they place everything in the case and roll it to the CVS. 

“I want to make sure I repay you.” 

“You can repay me by picking out a nice deodorant and toothbrush.” Mark replies as they step into the CVS. Ethan shakes his head with a frown. 

“I’m serious. I don’t want to be a burden.” He’s not even looking at the array of toothbrushes, staring at Mark with a cute stubborn expression.

“You aren’t a burden. We’ll find a way for you to repay me, if it’ll really make you feel better.” 

There’s a fan. 

It’s pretty obvious. Mark always knows when he’s recognised, whether it’s a subtle double take, a pretend selfie to get a photo, or just blatant staring, he always sort of knows. As they’re approached, he’s busy trying to think of how to explain this one to Ethan. 

“Mark! Hey, huge fan! Didn’t realise you’d be visiting Destin next?” The guy is all excited. Ethan picks up a toothbrush and holds it to his chest, eyes wide at the stranger. Mark shakes the dude’s hand. 

“Thanks, man. Yeah, we couldn’t leave Florida out of the bunch.” Mark socialises, glancing back at Ethan every two seconds to make sure he isn’t uncomfortable. 

“Can I get a photo? Totally fine if not, I know you might be busy—“ 

“Nah, let’s do it. Ethan? Can you take it for us? Just get us in frame and press the circle.” He hands the guy’s phone to Ethan, who does as he’s told, expression thoughtful. 

“Thanks so much, I look forward to your next stream.” The guy grins and leaves them be, tapping at his new photo excitedly. Mark turns back to Ethan sheepishly, taking a hold of the suitcase once more. 

“Are you famous or something?” The boy asks. 

“Not really, no.” Mark is more aware now. Aware of who might see him with the boy. Aware that next time he streams he will have to introduce him. It’s unavoidable. The community has likely already seen him through Alex or Tyler’s point of views. 

“Alright, let’s get you some deodorant.” 

-

On their way back to the RV, the sun is settling for the night and they wait at a crosswalk. When it turns green, Ethan doesn’t move, eyes on a barber shop next to them. 

Mark steps up behind him, watching a man inside the shop sweep up some hair after a customer. 

“You want a haircut?” He asks. Ethan flushes, embarrassed at being caught staring or embarrassed that he definitely does. Maybe even both. Mark is still figuring him out. 

“Mother always insisted I keep it long. I have never had it short. It’s hot and gets in the way and I never asked why she wanted it long.” He reaches up and releases the ponytail, and his brown hair falls over his shoulders. Slightly wavy, it lands at his upper back. Mid-length, if you will. 

“We can get it cut, if you’d like. They accept walk ins.” Mark points to the sign, and Ethan bounces on his toes as he considers the offer. 

“I don’t want to look like they wanted me to.” He eventually states, tugging at his long hair. So it’s decided. 

They look through magazines while the hairdresser cleans up from the last person, and Ethan seems to be rather decisive, immediately pointing at one of the first cuts. It’s just an average short style. Short on the sides and just slightly longer on the top. Definitely won’t be anymore hair in his face. 

“That’s the one? If you hate it, it shouldn’t take too long to grow back.” 

“It’s the one. I’m ready.” The boy says, and he’s led to the chair. Even as he seems confident, he looks worriedly at the mirror as all of his long hair is chopped off, watching the strands fall to the floor. It might just be sentimental, or maybe he actually is going to miss all of his hair. 

Mark wants to ask him what he’s thinking all the fucking time, but he holds himself back. Take it slow, he reminds himself once more. He has to keep his curiosity at bay for at least a while until the boy is settled into this lifestyle. If he suddenly up and decides to go back home, Mark needs to be prepared for that. Prepared to fight with the parents about morals and decisions. Prepared to let Ethan back into that horrible house with abusive parents. 

One thing’s for sure, he won’t walk away. He would go back to that town and deal with all of the shit. Unless Ethan asks him to leave, Mark will go wherever he wants. 

He’s too attached already. It’s undeniable. 

“My neck is cold.” Ethan says, stepping up to the chair Mark’s sat at. He blinks out of his thoughts and smiles up at him. 

The cut suits him very well. He looks a lot more boyish. More his age rather than a high schooler. Which, well, he’s barely out of that stage of life. 

That’s another thing Mark has to remember. Ethan hasn’t even been to college yet. He’s just eighteen. Seven years younger. Mark couldn’t imagine himself running away at eighteen to travel the country. The boy must be at least a little scared of the future, no doubt. With his sheltered upbringing, he might be more scared than Mark can imagine. 

“Looks really great, you happy with it?” Mark stands up, paying for the haircut. Ethan keeps touching at his head, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, it feels really nice. Are we going back to the RV now?” 

“Yep. You can shower if you want, or change clothes. Once everyone gets back we’ll go grab some food.” 

The walk back to the RV is short and sweet. They don’t talk, just enjoying the sun setting behind the buildings and the sound of the ocean not too far off. Mark’s never been excited to visit the beach, but he knows it’ll be a first for Ethan. He’s saving that for tomorrow, though. 

Evan is the only one back when they get inside, sitting in the drivers seat on his laptop. 

“Evan, is Mark famous?” Ethan asks the second they get inside. Mark blinks in surprise, doing an ‘abort mission’ motion to Evan. The man grins, definitely not going to abort shit. 

“Oh, yeah, for sure. 24 million subscribers. When he streams he doesn’t have any less than 20 thousand people at any time.” Evan grins, the little fuck. 

“God, Evan—“

“You said you weren’t famous.” Ethan whirls around and crosses his arms, seeming to be pissed. Mark slumps down into the couch with a heavy sigh. 

“I don’t think I am! 24 million is next to nothing these days—“

“There’s less than two thousand people living in my town. I can’t even  _imagine_ 24 million.” He seems to be hurt. Right, religion takes lying very seriously. Not that it was really a lie. Mark really doesn’t consider himself famous. 

“I’m sorry. Here, c’mere,” He pats the couch next to him but Ethan doesn’t budge, stubborn, “come on, please? Let me show you.” 

Ethan sits next to him, very careful not to let them touch. Mark pulls up his YouTube and places the phone in the boy’s hands. 

“I do a bit of game stuff, but for the last year or so I just upload stream highlights and people seem to enjoy it.” 

Ethan clicks on the most recent video, a recording of the hiking trip they went on a week ago before leaving California, and the second half being some bourbon street footage from Louisiana. 

“I don’t want to mess up your recordings.” He eventually says, always thinking he’s a burden. Intruding. Couldn’t be more wrong. 

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask about that. I think the viewers would really like you, if you’re okay with being in the videos. I was planning on streaming tomorrow and doing a little introduction.” 

“O-okay. What if they don’t like me? I’m not, like, interesting.”

“Fuck off, they’ll love you.” Mark rolls his eyes and pats his shoulder, wishing so much more to linger there. Wrap an arm around him, even. Evan gives him a knowing look. Mark flips him off behind Ethan’s shoulder and maintains his smile. The teasing doesn’t even bother him. He knows he’s fucked. Torn between making Ethan comfortable and wanting to kiss him. 

He’s so damn helpless. 

-

Mark lies in his bunk and is painfully aware of the fact that Ethan isn’t falling asleep. 

Sometimes it sounds like his breathing is evening a bit, and then a honk outside or a person walking by causes the boy to stir again, shifting around in his own bunk. Due to the privacy curtains outside each bed, Mark can’t just look at him to see if he’s okay. 

He doesn’t last long waiting around. 

Opening the curtain, Mark slips out of the bed and across the small aisle to Ethan’s. The boy is pouting when he pulls the curtain back, looking so sleepy but not enough to actually asleep, apparently. 

“Is it the noise?” Mark asks in a whisper, crouching down and sitting his chin on his folded arms. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Ethan replies in the same quiet whisper. 

“Didn’t. Can’t sleep, myself.” 

“It’s not really the noise..I just feel nervous. I can hear people walk by or drive by right outside and that door seems kind of flimsy.” Even in the dark, Mark can see his embarrassed blush. 

“I have an idea. Hold on.” He stands up and opens up his rucksack, taking out his AirPods. 

Back at Ethan’s bunk, he connects his phone and then reaches up to place the headphones in the boy’s ears. He watches with bright blue eyes, completely trusting. 

Mark has no clue what sort of music he listens to, so he finds just a calming classical playlist and hits play. Ethan blinks as the music plays, and a smile tugs at his lips. 

“Is that good?” 

“I can’t hear you.” Ethan murmurs just slightly too loud. Mark huffs a laugh and presses a finger to the boy’s lips to let him know he’s being loud. Ethan smiles under his finger and reaches up to take his wrist, tugging it towards him until Mark gets the hint and climbs into the bunk with him. 

They lie on their sides, eyes on each other. Like some sort of stupid cheesy romance novel. He finds it hard to care, though. Wants more. 

“I’m going to hell.” Ethan whispers, taking out one of the AirPods. The music automatically pauses as he reaches up to give Mark the AirPod so they can listen together. When the music resumes, he finds it’s some sort of soft piano song. It sounds sweet but melancholy, somehow. A harp in the background, maybe. 

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I want...what happened on the slide.” He admits, cheeks pink and fingers touching gently at his chest. Curious. 

“You’re too good to go to hell. God wouldn’t allow two men the capability to love each other unless it was meant to be, right?” 

“Or it’s a test of faith.” 

“A test of faith can’t touch love, Ethan. If you love someone, that’s not something you choose yourself.” 

Ethan bites his lip, inching tantalisingly closer. 

“Are you confessing?” He asks. Mark struggles to answer properly, heart racing. 

“I want to kiss you, too. Really fucking bad.” 

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“You can.” 

Mark doesn’t need anymore green lights. He tries to keep himself slow and calm, lifting his head for an angle and gently taking Ethan’s chin in his hand as he leans in and presses their lips together. 

Suddenly, the song in their ears is a lot less melancholy and a lot more sweet. Ethan, inexperienced, lets him lead, clutching his arm. 

Mark deepens the kiss and can’t help himself, rolling them over and holding himself up above the boy, legs tangling, heart pounding, hand wandering. 

Ethan makes a sweet noise and his fingers slip under Mark’s shirt, sliding up his chest like he’s never felt another person’s body before. Which, well, he hasn’t. 

Mark pulls away and looks between them. Ethan has a boner, toes curling, desperate for more. Mark wants more really fucking bad, but he has to remind himself that there’s virginity in this situation. More than virginity, there’s religion between them. 

Though, something is off. 

He can’t help but notice it. There’s something being held in with Ethan. Something to cause his pain that he doesn’t want to talk about. Some sort of trauma, Mark guesses. 

Even more pertinent, the way his hands feel him. Like he knows what he’s looking for. Like he’s been in this situation before. Though, he’s never been kissed, Mark has a feeling he’s gone further. Who has sex but doesn’t kiss? 

There’s an uneasy feeling in his stomach, suddenly. 

He’s always been good at reading people. Ever since his parents died he’s sat back and observed for most of his life until now. Never really got in social situations, just watched. He can read people well, but this theory is a bit..

It’s terrible, is what it is. He can’t go further with this boy. Even if he suddenly decides he’s not catholic anymore. Mark needs the whole story. They need to be closer. He still doesn’t know most things about him. 

“What’s wrong?” Ethan whispers, touching at his cheek. Mark tilts his chin and kisses the boy’s forehead, then lies at his side again, searching his eyes for answers he can’t deduce. 

“I need to know how far you’re okay with going.” He starts small. Not digging, yet. Would hate to upset him. 

“Um, as far away as we can, but I don’t have a passport.” Adorably oblivious. Mark grins and tangles their fingers together sweetly. Can’t help it. 

“I don’t mean the trip. I mean with me. I’m sure catholic’s have laws about premarital sex.” He watches his hypothesis become a theory in Ethan’s reaction. Adverting the eyes, eyebrows furrowing. He’s sad about it. He’s closing off by the second, muscles tensing, jaw working. Just by the mention of it. 

Is worse than he’d thought. The trauma not only haunts him, but it’s unspoken. No closure. Bottled up and thrown in the back of his mind. How did his parents do nothing? Sure, parents can not notice if it’s hidden well enough, but they’ve been with Ethan for 18 years. Mark spends a few days with him and noticed his trauma induced depression. Surely they’d noticed the signs. Did they do nothing? How could they do nothing? The rage quickly bubbles back up. 

“I don’t believe in that.”

“Premarital sex?”

“No, like, I’m fine with it. We can do whatever.” He tries to distract probably both of them, lifting his chin for another kiss. Mark stops him gently, and kisses his forehead instead. 

“Okay, but let’s take it slow. No need to rush into anything. Definitely not in an RV with my friends two feet away.” Ethan giggles, and Mark’s heart swells, glad to make that pain go away if even for a second. 

He still barely knows the guy, but he’s smitten. They fall asleep there on their sides, hands clutched together and a nice violin melody in their ears. 

—•E•—

Mark wakes him up before the sun has even started to rise, tossing him clothes and shushing him so he doesn’t wake anyone else. 

Ethan gets dressed tiredly and brushes his teeth with his new brush, splashing water on his face. His new clothes are nice and comfortable, especially the shoes. He likes the style, having worn nothing but trainers or his school uniform shoes all his life. 

Outside, Destin seems to be just as tired as he is, only a few cars slowly chugging by, maybe two or three people walking about. The sky is the lightest blue, the sun just starting to peek around to them. 

“Where are we going?” Ethan asks when they’re away from the RV. Mark grins, taking his hand and leading him between two buildings to the backside that he hasn’t been able to see yet. 

The beach. 

Ethan’s never been. As they get closer, he can smell the salt in the air and can hear the waves. 

“Here, take off your shoes.” Mark says, sliding off his own and placing them in some sort of cubby that seems to be just for shoes. 

Stepping barefoot onto the sand, Ethan smiles joyfully at the feeling. He’s done this one other time in his life, with a sandbox that the kid next door had in his backyard, but it’s drastically different now. The sand is so much softer, and it’s nearly white. 

They walk across the sand towards the ocean that seems to have no ending, going on forever and ever until it meets the skyline. At the water, the waves crash and bubble up to their feet. It’s not too cold when it tickles at his ankles. The water looks green, especially with the sunrise over the horizon. 

It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and yet Mark is looking at him when he glances over.

“Look at it.” Ethan says, squeezing his hand. Mark barely looks over at the sunrise for even a moment, then he looks back, eyes warm. The sunrise casts a nice gold over his skin. 

“It’s beautiful.” The man comments, then pulls him closer. They share a kiss while the water washes over their feet again. Ethan hasn’t seen many romance movies, but he can’t imagine it gets more romantic than this. A kiss on the beach while the sun rises behind them. His fingers itch to draw it. Keep the drawing forever as a reminder of this moment. 

“You don’t seem interested.” Ethan pouts as they pull away, wondering how Mark can possibly stare at him over this view. 

“I don’t love the ocean, to say the least. Besides, I’ve seen many beaches before.” 

“You don’t love the ocean?”

“No..scientists have barely scratched the surface. What lies below is next to unknown. Could be anything. Going out on a boat would be fucking terrifying.” 

“So you’re scared of it.” Ethan concludes. Mark looks affronted, squeezing his hand with a scoff. 

“Not, like, cry myself to sleep scared of it, no. If you say it’s not scary you’re lying.” 

“Well I’m not scared. Are you scared right now?” 

“A little, but not of the water.” He smiles like Ethan supposed to understand that. The boy raises an eyebrow. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means we need to go back now. We have some shopping to do and then it’s off to Atlanta.” Mark turns and pulls him away from the ocean, back to their shoes, and Ethan quickly forgets about his weird statement. 

“Atlanta as in Georgia?” He asks excitedly. He knows it must be a big city. Bigger than Destin, likely. He learned the capitols at some point in his schooling. He knows they’re usually big cities. 

“That’s the one. You ever been to ikea?” 

“The furniture store? No.” Ethan wonders why they’d need to visit a furniture store as people riding around in an RV, but he’ll surely find out when they go. 

“It’s on the list. Hey, by the way, I was planning to stream while we shop around today. Are you still okay with being introduced?” 

“Yeah, okay.” When they step in the RV, everyone else is getting ready for the day. Alex does her makeup with a small mirror, Evan ties his shoes, and Tyler pulls on a pair of jeans. 

“Ethan, did you like the beach? Mark was very excited to show it to you.” Tyler wiggles his eyebrows 

“Yeah, it’s really nice.” Ethan looks back to Mark and finds the man is flipping his friend the middle finger. He always gets mad at his friends when they expose him, but it seems to just be jokes. Mostly. 

“Can we hurry up? I need to get to that Disney store.” Alex sighs, pulling on some black ankle boots. The group gets prepared to leave. Ethan watches Mark mount a camera onto a handheld tripod, fiddling with his phone that seems to be connected to it. The electronics are foreign to him usage wise, but he’s seen them used before by other people. In school and in movies and what not. His parents were always very adamant about no electronics until they move on their own. Apparently they give out radiation that causes cancer. 

Or maybe they just didn’t want him to surf the Internet and find out just how differently he was being treated compared to other kids. 

“Okay, so the camera shows the audience my view or myself, and the phone shows the chat.” Mark shows him a chat that is already moving, people saying hellos and posting little emotions. 

“You’re live? They can see us?” He looks at the lens of the camera nervously.

“I’m live, yes, but they can’t see us yet. I have a prescreen up to allow everyone time to join before we start. I gotta make sure I say this: be careful about the things you say and the information you reveal.”

“Like my last name and stuff?”

“Like everything you wish to keep off of the internet. Evan wasn’t lying, there’s already 21 thousand people waiting. You don’t want to say your last name and then suddenly your parents are being swatted.”

“Swatted?”

“Just..don’t give anything out, even if you see someone ask it. They’re going to ask you questions, don’t read them out unless you plan to answer it, alright?” Mark takes his wrist and places some sort of band onto it, setting his phone in a holder, the chat still moving by freely. 

“I hold this?”

“Yep, just be yourself. The phone will automatically read out donations, only answer if you want. Got everything?”

Ethan nods, still confused, and watches the chat fly by in increasing speeds as Mark starts his stream, greeting everyone. The words are nearly too quick to read. 

“We’re in Florida now, as I’m sure you’re aware of. I know everyone’s been asking about the boy who made an appearance in Alex’s stream, so I figured I’d formally introduce him. This is Ethan, he’s joining us on the trip. Tell em a bit about you.” Mark turns the camera lens to him and Ethan blushes, glancing rapidly at the chat as a distraction. He never thought being in front of a camera would be so daunting. 

“I’m Ethan. I’m 18 and, uh, not very interesting, sorry.” 

“He’s being modest, he was so interesting we adopted him immediately.” Mark smiles and stands up. Ethan follows, watching the chat on his wrist saying ‘awww’ and more emoticons. He’s not sure what they’re trying to say, or if they plan to formulate complete sentences. Either way, it’s pretty cool. 

He knows they didn’t adopt him because of him being “interesting”. More likely, they took him in to save him from his upbringing, which seems more and more unfair as Ethan absorbs this group of non-believers. 

Ethan has questioned his beliefs before, but not like this. He’s never thought of Catholicism as being a negative. Not until he met Mark. His parents would say that Mark is an angel of Hell sent to test his faith. Ethan isn’t so sure. 

Mark, with his arms of tattoos and his love for cursing, is one of the kindest people he’s met. The type of man who asks permission to kiss someone. Which he did. Last night. 

It’s hard to forget it. This whole ‘kissing Mark’ thing hardly feels like a sin. Hardly feels like an abomination. It feels so incredibly right. Like it was meant to happen. Almost like tests of faith aren’t real and the heart wants what it wants, no matter the beliefs. 

Even more of a thought, what if this is what God intended all along? God is great, God is good. It’s something he’s said all his life. Before supper, before prayers, before bed. It seems uncharacteristic for God to believe that homosexuality is a sin. 

Seeing his name in the chat, Ethan is brought from his thoughts. They’re walking along the street, presumably towards the shops. 

“They’re asking me questions.” He says, looking up to Mark for help. The guy grins, holding the camera so they’re both shown on his little screen that’s attached. 

“Answer some, then. They’re curious.”

“Okay..um, no I wasn’t kidnapped. I guess my favourite game is Tetris? I never had a gaming console, just our desktop computer...n-no, I’m not Amish, I’m Catholic...no, Mark hasn’t told me about the devil alter ego.” 

Mark turns the camera to himself, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Fuck off, chat,” he looks to Ethan, “darkiplier isn’t the devil, they’re making a joke. He’s just..misunderstood.”

“They’re saying you’re lying.” Ethan has a hard time keeping up with everything the chat is saying. There’s so many people that he can only catch shorter messages, but most people seem to say the same things over and over. 

“I’m not lying! I swear, chat’s just trying to cause drama. I don’t lie to you, not again.” His eyes are sincere. They’ve stopped at a crosswalk to wait for traffic. Mark touches his arm and Ethan forgets why he’s angry. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Mark links their pinkies and doesn’t let go. Out of the view of the camera, they continue the walk with their looped pinkies. Clearly in view of the camera, both of their cheesy smiles. After a moment, Mark pulls his hand away and fidgets with the camera, adjusting something. 

“No, we aren’t dating.” Ethan reads the chat who seems to not believe him. They keep mentioning things that he doesn’t understand. Little phrases or words that make no sense. 

“Mark, what is KappaPride?” 

“God, chat, can you guys chill for even a second? Me smiling at a guy doesn’t mean I slept with him.”

“Don’t lie to them either, you just slept with me last night!” 

Mark stops walking completely and groans, covering his face. The group also stops walking, looking back at them incredulously. Ethan, confused, looks to the chat for help but it’s moving far too fast to even read a single word. 

“Fuckin’ hell, it’s not what it sounds like, I swear.” Mark looks between the camera and his friends, seeming to talk to both. 

“Really, Mark?! Our bunks are mere feet apart!” Alex complains, looking like she’s going to be ill. 

“I don’t understand.” Ethan says, flushing in embarrassment. He seemed to have said something wrong but he isn’t sure what. 

Mark turns to him, hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s not your fault. I doubt you picked up on much lingo in catholic school. When the chat said sleep together, they meant sex.”

“Sleep doesn’t mean..sleep?” 

“No, it does, but not in this context. I was telling chat we didn’t fuck and you just said we did. While my friends were asleep just feet away.” 

Ethan runs a hand through his hair, now understanding why the chat is freaking out. 

“Oh my, I didn’t—I’m so sorry. It wasn’t like that at all, I swear we were just sleeping, as in unconscious!” He covers his face in embarrassment, cheeks red. The group is clearly holding back laughter. The chat is unreadable. Mark is grinning ear to ear. 

“Okay, crisis averted. Chat, give him a break. He was really sheltered before we corrupted him.” Mark tugs him along so they can continue walking. 

It takes twenty minutes for Ethan to stop blushing. 

“You want it?”

Ethan startles, looking up from the shelf of stuffed toys. 

“No, I’m just looking. I haven’t seen most of these movies.” 

Alex had been  _very_ adamant that they visit the Disney store. Ethan wasn’t lying, he’s seen only a few. Mother was always saying that there are more important things to do than watch tv. Ethan spent a lot of time with his imagination. Now he thinks that might be the reason for his difficulty paying attention to one thing at a time. 

“Surely you were allowed Disney. Of the things to ban, it’s not really one I’d think of.” Mark holds the camera steady on himself. After a while, it just becomes part of the day. The daunt has worn off and glancing at his wrist to read the chat feels pretty natural. 

“Well, magic isn’t really accepted where I’m from. Unless it’s in the bible, apparently.” Ethan surprises himself with his tone of resentment. He places the Eeyore plushy back on the shelf and blinks in surprise. He may disagree with some choices his parents made, but does he really resent them? Are they deserving of resentment?

While they have caused him pain, they aren’t the centre of his aching, to be truthful. They aren’t the darkness that keeps him up at night. While they may have enabled it, they didn’t make the choice that killed him two years ago. 

He doesn’t resent his parents, only their actions. Now, he can only attempt to forgive them. Forgiveness is something he can believe in, despite his current questioning. No matter the sin, he can’t live with lingering hatred. He must forgive. 

Right? He can forgive his parents. It will take time to, but he can. 

There are others that will be harder to forgive. Others that may never be forgiven in this lifetime. Maybe even the next, if a ‘next’ is anything but a fairy tale told to bring comfort to the living. 

A hand on his brings him out of his deep thought. Mark doesn’t ask what’s on his mind, especially not with thousands watching, but his eyebrows furrow with the question silently. Ethan swallows thickly and continues on through the store. 

He can’t talk about this with Mark. Not yet. 

-

There are more things than religion being questioned. 

“You should eat.” Mark murmurs quietly so the group doesn’t hear, lying an arm across the back of the couch behind Ethan. His eyes are warm. Kind. Always kind. 

“Not really hungry.” Ethan attempts a smile. He knows by now that the man will see it’s fake. 

“I know I can’t offer much comfort right now..but just tell me if anything today triggered how you’re feeling and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“Nothing really causes it. It just happens. You’re not doing anything wrong.” Ethan murmurs quietly, eyes flitting between the group conversing on the other side of the RV. They’re having a loud debate about some tv show. 

“Well, I can only hope to make you feel better, even if just a little. I didn’t just get food when I went out.” 

Ethan looks away from the debate and to Mark, who holds a canvas tote with some flower design on it. The boy takes the bag, confused, and reaches inside. 

The darkness flickers as his heart skips. 

“Oh.” He breathes, pulling out the sketchbook. It’s a nice size. Not too big, not too small. Thick cream sheets for any variety of mediums. Not just the sketchbook, either. Reaching into the tote, Ethan finds a plethora of art supplies. Brushes, different paints, colour pencils, charcoal, blending tools, even a foldable easel. 

“Watercolour. I’ve never been able to use it.” He says, taking the paints from the bag and running his fingers over the plastic covering. How Mark knew of such a thoughtful gift is beyond him. 

“Well, you said you like to paint, that night on the slide, you said that your dad says it’s not a sustainable career. I beg to differ. No matter what path you choose, it should always be what you love.” 

Ethan places the items back into the tote and sets it aside, then turns to Mark and hugs him. The man chuckles, arms sliding around his waist. 

“I don’t have anything to offer in return.” He mumbles, tears threatening to escape as he realises this is the first time in his life he didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for his creative outlet. 

“You being here is quite enough.” Mark replies, arms tight like he doesn’t want to let go. 

Ethan lifts his head to meet his eyes, not separating them. 

“I didn’t want to ask on stream..what did you mean on the beach? When you said you were scared but not of the water?” 

“We’re seven years apart. When I was 18, I was changing my mind every other day. No clue what I was doing, and definitely not thinking of running away with some dude I kissed once. I just..I feel like you’re going to leave, and I hope you know I’ll follow you back, even to that horrid town. I’m with you, now. The only person who can stop that is you. If you’re okay with it, I’m here, always.”

“Why?” His question his nearly a whisper. Mark’s smile is sad. He leans in and presses a very soft kiss on his lips. 

“I think you know why.” He mumbles against his lips. Ethan clutches his arm, breathless. 

“We haven’t even known each other for a week.”

“I know.” Mark huffs a laugh and finally leans away enough to allow him a breath. When he gets close like that, Ethan finds it hard to remember his own thoughts. Mark is mind numbing. 

When it comes down to it, Ethan isn’t questioning his sexuality. It was never a question with Mark. It was like a bus hitting him when he’d least expected it. The light in a dark tunnel. Rainbow on a cloudy day. Eye of a storm. Whatever other analogy that can suffice. 

Questioning isn’t the right word. Accepting is closer. He has to accept these uncontrollable, terribly strong feelings between them. If God intended for this to be a test, Ethan can’t figure out how he could have passed. Mark took his breath away from the moment he jogged up to him that day at the dog park. 

If he were a poet, he might call it love at first sight. He’s not a poet, so he’ll just stick with the base line. What he knows to be true no matter what has happened or what may happen next. 

He loves Mark. 

-

They’re set to leave Destin for Georgia exactly a week after they’d met. 

“It’s Sunday.” Mark shakes him awake saying. Ethan lifts his head, bleary eyed, and glances out of the window to see its early.

“I know. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just..need to ask if you want to go to church.” Mark sits at the edge of his bunk, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Ethan tilts his head in confusion.

“You’d take me to church?” 

“Of course. I’m sure there haven’t been many Sundays in your life not spent in a service. There’s a large catholic chapel about ten minutes on foot from here.” 

“I’ve never gone alone.” 

“I don’t intend to send you alone.” Mark raises an eyebrow like this statement should be a given. Ethan smiles, cheeks pink. 

“You’re going to get looks.” He reaches out and trails his hand up Mark’s heavily inked arm so he knows what he’s referring to. 

“Yeah I’m sure I will. You okay with getting looks being at my side?” 

“I don’t go to church for anyone but me.” 

“Alright, get dressed.”

The church is outlandishly larger than the one Ethan’s gone to his whole life. It’s a tall and skinny building, and the cross on the roof extends up above all of the surrounding buildings. It’s beautiful. He’s nervous. 

“You ready?” Mark asks, standing next to him with a suspiciously neutral expression. He’d dressed up for this and everything. Wearing a nice button down that’s tucked into a clean pair of jeans. Ethan attempted to wear nice clothing as well, but he can’t hide that he’s wearing a plain t shirt under the nice blazer Evan let him borrow. 

“Okay, lets go.” 

They make their way up the stairs. Ethan actively avoids looking at literally anyone and dips his fingers in the holy water, making the sign of the cross. Inside is even prettier than out, with extremely high ceilings and very clean carpet. The stained glass windows on either wall portray classic events from the life of Christ. A huge organ sits behind the alter up front, where a woman plays a gentle hymn. 

Ethan finds an empty pew somewhere in the middle. He kneels onto his knee and does the sign of the cross once more, before taking a seat. He looks back to find Mark is following his movements. He even gets the cross correct. 

Moments after sitting, the hymn changes. The signal that mass is starting. Ethan looks up from his lap to find the priest and his attendants process to the alter, and his stomach flips. 

It’s been two years since he’s attended mass without wanting to die. 

It begins. Ethan finds that Catholic Church here isn’t so different from his hometown. The priest acknowledges that everyone has sinned during the week, and then they lower their heads to pray. The priest begins to read the passages for today. 

He’s reading from Romans. 

“..But God shows his anger from heaven against all sinful, wicked people who suppress the truth by their wickedness..” 

Ethan looks up to the priest, eyes wide. He isn’t sure if passages are chosen by him or the church. He quickly glances at the other churchgoers. Normal heterosexual families with perfect hair and perfect clothing. Surely it’s a coincidence, right? Surely the priest didn’t see him and Mark standing out like a sore thumb and decide to read these passages today, right?

He can’t breathe, suddenly. There’s too many people and there’s too many of them glancing back to him. Like they just know. As if they can smell it on him or something. 

“That is why God abandoned them to their shameful desires. Even the women turned against the natural way to have sex and instead indulged in sex with each other. And the men, instead of having normal sexual relations with women, burned with lust for each other. Men did shameful things with other men, and as a result of this sin, they suffered within themselves the penalty they deserved..” the priest glances up from the holy book, and their eyes meet. 

Ethan takes Mark’s hand and stands up, tugging him away from the stares and away from the church. Outside, he keeps walking and walking and walking—

“Ethan, Ethan stop, we’re going the wrong way.” Mark tightens his hand and pulls him back. He looks worried, eyebrows knit together. 

“He did it on purpose. He read from Romans on purpose, he looked right at me.” Ethan’s shaking, heart slamming in his chest. Mark shakes his head like he wants to disagree, but he doesn’t. Perhaps he noticed too. 

“Maybe it was a coincidence—“

“A-after God lets the sinners do as they please, they go on to spread hatred about Him. Their lives become horrible. Murder, hate, envy, and I’m pretty sure it even mentions disobeying their parents. They do all of the worst sins and encourage others to do the same, then they die horribly and spend eternity in hell.” Ethan speaks so fast he might be a bit intelligible. Mark keeps trying to hold him but Ethan pulls away. 

“Okay, love. Let’s go back to the RV and calm—“

“I c-can’t, I’m going to burn, this is God telling me I’m making the wrong choices, I need..” he needs to run. Mark reaches for him, eyes wide, but Ethan turns and takes off. 

He runs faster than he ever has, ignoring Mark’s calls after him, turning streets and alleyways at random until he’s lost him. Alone in a small alley, he slides down the wall and curls in on himself, praying for forgiveness as he tries to catch his breath. 

-

Hours have passed and the sun sits high in the sky. It must be almost noon. 

Ethan, calmed down from his religious outburst, has realised his mistakes. 

While he feels like it must be true, the sign and the sinning, there’s a bigger part of him that feels like it’s worth it. This lifetime with Mark for an eternity in hell, it sounds insane, but he would do it. He truly would. Perhaps if he does everything else right, God will forgive this one sin. The sin of loving a male. Which he does. He loves him. In a way he’s never felt love for someone before. 

Only now, he’s run from it. Lost himself in an unknown city and can’t force himself to stand up and find his way back. Burying his head in his hands, he cries. He’s done exactly the thing Mark was scared of. He ran on impulse. 18 year old impulse. The man must be out of his mind right now. 

Or maybe he left, glad to have lost his burden. 

A darker side of his mind whispers to him. It hurts more than it usually does. He feels like he’s spiralling down a dark well with no way out. Stuck in the bottom in muddy water and he’s drowning. Can’t catch a breath—

“Please don’t run.” 

Ethan startles, lifting his head to find Tyler, hands held out like he’s calming a horse. Suddenly, his legs aren’t so stiff after all. He scrambles to his feet and throws his arms around the tall man. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be alone.” He clings onto him, crying. If the church was a sign, surely this is as well. Perhaps God is accepting this deal. Accepting this one sin so he can be happy. Sending Tyler to find him in this maze of a city. In this tiny alleyway that nobody would care to glance down. 

“Okay, you’re alright. Come on, we need to go to Mark, he’s worried out of his mind.” Tyler offers a hand like he’s worried Ethan will take off again, and they make their way out of the alleyway. As they walk, Tyler makes a call, telling their location. Within minutes, the RV pulls to a stop at the curb next to them. 

Mark slams out of the door and checks him for injuries, eyes red-rimmed like he was crying, and hair frizzy from running his hands through it too much. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine—“

“We can have you home by 6, don’t worry, you won’t be damned—“

“Mark, please shut up.” Ethan takes his hand and pulls him closer, leaning up on his tip toes to kiss him. 

Mark doesn’t resist this, holding him so tightly that his feet lift from the ground, making a desperate sound against his lips. The kiss is passionate. Ethan can’t imagine a life without this anymore. The thought sounds dark. Lonely. 

“You don’t want to leave me?” Mark asks the second they pull apart, eyebrows furrowed. 

“No, never. I’m sorry I ran. I was feeling too much.” He watches Mark’s expression quickly switch to anger. The man shakes him gently. 

“Don’t ever fucking do that again. I was ready to report to missing persons. You just talk to me next time, okay? Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Okay..I’m sorry.” He hides his face on Mark’s shoulder shamefully, looking over it to see the group is conversing quietly outside of the vehicle. 

“I know. I’m not angry, I was terrified.” Mark murmurs this quietly. A confession. Ethan doesn’t ever want to let him go. They stay in that embrace for a good few minutes, relishing in the reunion. 

“Guys, come on. We need to leave now if we want to hit Atlanta before midnight.” Evan calls to them. They separate with pink cheeks and linked hands. Mark steps onto the RV, and Ethan pauses in front of the group. 

“I’m sorry I keep messing up your trip. I’ll do better from now on.” He looks to each of them, embarrassed. 

“Ethan, we were just as worried as Mark was. You’re with us now, we just want you safe.” Alex fusses with his hair and Ethan feels emotional. He feels like the love from these people is undeserved. He’s done nothing but become a burden for them, and yet they accept him anyway. 

Non-believers are nothing like what he was told all of his life. They’re forgiving, loving, and fiercely protective of each other. For not the first time, Ethan feels more at home with these people than he ever did with his family. 

-

“We’re ten minutes out, pack up your case.” Mark plops down next to him on the bunk. Ethan looks up from the laptop they let him borrow, pausing Beauty and the Beast, a movie he was never allowed to watch before. 

“We aren’t staying in the RV?” 

“Nah. Sometimes it’s nice to get a hotel room instead. If we stayed in the RV 100% of the time we’d probably kill each other.” He grins and takes the laptop, sliding it into its protective case. Ethan stands up excitedly to get his few things packed up. He’s never stayed in a hotel before. 

Atlanta is huge. Miles larger than Destin. Ethan’s eyes are glued to the windows in wonder as they drive through the buzzing city. There’s so many buildings, cars, and people all over the place. 

“Alright, we have an hour to settle into our rooms. We meet back in the lobby for dinner and the party.” Tyler tells everyone as they pull into a parking garage. 

“Party?” Ethan repeats, remembering the last one. He and Mark had snuck out to that park instead. The man seems to be thinking of the same memory, smiling softly at his lap. 

“People keep track of our trip progress. There’s pretty much always a party waiting for us.” Alex rolls her eyes with a grin as they pile out of the RV with their bags. Ethan pulls his art tote onto his shoulder, and Mark steps up next to him with his duffel, taking the rolling case handle from him. 

“Chivalrous.” Ethan mutters at the action. Mark ignores the teasing and walks along, chin up. 

The hotel is beautiful. The lobby is huge, with a shiny floor that has multiple patterns. As they ride the elevator, he stares with wide eyes out of the glass walls that look over the city, amazed at the view. He’s never been so high up in his life. It makes his legs feel like jelly. 

They separate as they reach their own respective floors. Mark and Ethan step off on floor 28. 

“I got us a room with a jacuzzi. Figured it’d be a nice change from that tiny RV shower.” Mark’s voice is soft today. There’s something going on with him. It could just be exhaustion, or maybe he’s feeling off after the church incident this morning. 

Mark swipes the card at their room, and opens up the door, stepping aside so Ethan can see first. 

The room is extremely nice, though he doesn’t have any hotel experiences to compare it too. The large bathroom with lights around the mirror and the large jacuzzi tub is on the right when they step inside. Further into the room, a couch and table. Presumably, the couch folds into a bed. Past that, one huge bed that looks almost too soft to be real. Sat in front of a tv and next to a full window wall that overlooks the city. 

Ethan sets down his tote and crawls onto the bed, crossing his legs and staring out of the wall in amazement. 

“You like it?” Mark asks, placing their bags on the couch and perching next to him with a smile. 

“Just one bed.” Ethan notes, chewing on his lip. Mark huffs a laugh and lies back, legs still dangling off of the bed, arms above his head. He’s really pretty. 

“Figured you wouldn’t be opposed to a bit of cuddling.” Mark’s eyes are closed, and they shoot open in surprise when Ethan crawls onto him and straddles him shyly. 

“There’s plenty I’m not opposed to.” He murmurs, cheeks pink. Mark’s throat works as he swallows, and he takes his hands from behind his head and places them on Ethan’s thighs that are wrapped around him. 

“Ethan..” it sounds like a warning. 

Instead of listening to the warning, he bends down and kisses the man. Inexperienced still, but doing what he thinks is probably right. Mark kisses back despite his weird hesitation. He said he wants to take it slow, but how slow exactly? Ethan wants everything. Anything. 

As they kiss, he reaches down and slides his hands under Mark’s shirt, feeling him up, then he touches at the button of his jeans, unsure if it’s okay. 

Mark makes a noise and then suddenly they’re flipping. The man is on him, then, planting kisses at his neck as he presses them together over their clothes. 

Ethan gasps at the feeling of pleasure. It’s different from his previous experiences. 

While slim, he  _has_ had experiences with pleasure. In his room in the dead quiet of the night, pillow clamped in his mouth as he touches himself desperately. Masturbation is a sin, so it’s only happened five times since he hit puberty, and each time was followed by guilt and praying for forgiveness. He hasn’t been weak like that in two years. Hasn’t wanted to, really. It’s been too dark to even think about it. 

Now, he wants it more than anything. His brain fuzzes with need. He pulls at Mark’s shirt, trying to take it off of him. 

“Fuck, fuck, we can’t.” Mark is suddenly gone, climbing away and off of the bed completely, reaching down to adjust himself in his pants with a hiss, catching his breath. 

“You don’t want to?” Ethan asks, staring at the clear proof that the man does, outlined in his jeans. 

“Of course I do, but we need to take it slow, remember?” Mark’s hands are fisted at his sides. He has pretty good self control. Ethan definitely does not. 

“I don’t want to take it slow.” 

Mark unclenches his fists and sits at the edge of the bed, touching Ethan’s ankle.

“You’re just horny. I think you need to take it slow. Don’t you believe you’ll go to hell if you have sex before marriage?”

“I already told you, we don’t need to worry about that.”

“Because you have already.” It’s not a question. 

Ethan’s stomach turns and he pulls his knees to his chest defensively, eyes wide. 

“No.”

“We don’t lie to each other, Ethan,” Mark’s voice is gentle. His hand on his ankle is comforting. He’s doing everything right, but Ethan is going to panic. How could he possibly know? As if he could read his mind, “I wasn’t 100% sure you had. It was a guess.”

“How could you guess?”

Mark looks like he doesn’t want to answer. He looks away, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Your depression clearly stems from something traumatic. At first I thought it was your parents, but after our first conversation about sex, I saw your face and knew it was about that. I thought maybe you just didn’t like it, or you regretted sinning or something, but then I thought of the possibility..” he closes his eyes, hands fisting again. He looks angry, suddenly. Really angry. At Ethan?

“What possibility?” The boy whispers, hands shaking. This is the first time someone has talked to him about his secret. 

“The possibility that you didn’t  _want_ to have sex.” Mark looks to him, finally, as if he’s analysing him for his reaction. Ethan fights to keep his expression neutral. 

“Are you a doctor or something?” He asks, not having realised Mark noticed so much. 

“No, I’m just an observer, and I am especially interested in you.” He squeezes his ankle, and Ethan realises he’s keeping a distance, his other hand fisted in the duvet under him. Like he wants to get closer but doesn’t want to upset him. 

“I’m not ready to talk about..t-that.” He might as well be confirming Mark’s suspicions. 

“Of course, whenever you’re ready. I just wanted to explain why I think we need to take it slow.”

“Because of me?” Ethan frowns at his lap. He’s ruined another thing. Can’t even make the guy he loves feel good. 

“No, because of me. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable. I won’t..I’ll never do something you don’t want, okay?” 

Ethan nods, and wipes his wet eyes. Mark isn’t allowing himself to get closer, so he makes the initiation himself, leaning up and pulling at Mark’s arms until they’re hugging. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, clinging onto him like a koala. Mark doesn’t seem to mind, petting at his hair. 

“For what?”

“I dunno.” He lifts his head from the hug and meets the man’s eyes. He’s already thinking of excuses to never talk about..that. He hates that it’s hanging in the air now. Known. Hates that Mark knows his first time wasn’t saved for him. 

“Nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.” 

Ethan twirls a strand of Mark’s dark hair with a frown. Sort of wishing he’d lied and said nothing had happened. He couldn’t, though. Not with the deal he’s got going on with God. 

“Ethan, you know it wasn’t your fault, right? What happened to you.” 

“I misbehaved—“

“It doesn’t matter what you did. It’s not your fault.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Okay.” Mark smiles comfortingly and piles all of the bed’s pillows together, laying back and opening his arms for a cuddle. Ethan sighs in relief and curls up against him. Physical contact is something that he’s avoided for quite some time now. No craving it whatsoever. Now, his heart aches every time they separate. As if no amount of time pressed together is enough. 

Mark takes the remote from the table next to them and switches on a huge wall-mounted tv. There’s a show on about renovating old houses to make them nice again. Ethan smiles as they watch, somehow able to relate to the show. 

He’s like an old house. Broken down and seemingly unfixable. Then someone arrives on the scene and fixes it up. Brings it to life again. That’s what it feels like being with Mark. Like he’s healing wounds he didn’t even realise he’d had. 

Experiencing the love and happiness of being around him has made Ethan realise just how dark he’d gotten. 

Now, eyes drooping tiredly, he’s only left with questions. How did his parents let this happen to him? More importantly, how did God let this happen to him?

-

Knocking at the door wakes him up from his strange dream abruptly. He was running through the streets of his hometown, trying to fly but every time he lifted from the ground, gravity would yank him roughly down. 

His memory of the dream fades by the second as he climbs out of Mark’s arms and stumbles to the door, opening it up to find an elderly woman with a rolling cart. 

“Breakfast for two. Pre-paid by a Mr. Scheid with a message card.” The lady motions to the folded card-stock on one of the silver platter covers. Ethan holds the door open as she rolls the cart inside and then makes her way out. 

“Thank you.” Ethan says despite his confusion. Mark lifts his head, half asleep, watching him roll the cart into the room. 

“You ordered breakfast?” Mark asks, voice raspy from sleep. It makes Ethan’s stomach flutter. 

“No, Tyler did,” he opens up the message card, “he says we leave for ikea at 10 and we’re buying meatballs for everyone to make up for missing dinner.” 

Mark sits up, then, looking to the bedside table to read that it’s 8:30 in the morning. They’d really passed out last night. 

“Well, fuck. We missed the party, too.” 

“I don’t mind. Is meatballs also lingo or are we actually paying them back in meatballs?”

“It’s actual meatballs. You’ll see later.” Mark climbs out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom. While he’s in there, Ethan lifts the platter covers to see the various breakfast foods Tyler’s ordered them. It’s quite nice. Smells even nicer.

He picks up a slice of bacon and chews at it idly, sitting at the bed and turning on the tv. Mark steps out of the bathroom shirtless and steps up to him between his legs, blocking the tv so he can kiss him. He tastes warm and minty from his toothpaste. 

“Love sleeping with you.” He says, all mushy as he presses kisses down his jaw. Ethan giggles, falling back against the bed. Mark raises an eyebrow and trails a hand up his bare legs, his grin near sinful. 

“What context are we talking in this time?” Ethan asks, stretching his arms over his head and leaving them there. He knows his shirt is ridden up and he’s just in briefs otherwise. He likes the way Mark looks at him, as if he can’t help himself. Ethan’s never liked or even wanted attention. Now, he knows Mark is holding back. Thinking they need to take it slow. As if Ethan isn’t ready. He’s more than ready. 

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna start teasing me, now. Take it slow, remember.” Mark leans over him and gently kisses his nose. It’s cute and all, but Ethan is an 18 year old boy, after all. 

“It’s been long enough.” 

“Its barely been 12 hours.” Mark chuckles, clearly not breaking. Ethan can’t help but pout, touching at the man’s inked arms. 

“Tell me what your tattoos mean.” 

“Not unless you want to be late. Besides, most of them are just designs.” He stands back up, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s not really telling the truth. 

“Most?” 

“Obviously some have meaning. C’mon, I think you’ll like ikea.” 

“Ugh, we have furniture stores in my town, y’know.” Ethan huffs in annoyance at not getting what he wants and crawls away to brush his teeth. 

-

He was very wrong. 

“Guys, don’t poke fun. He’s never been to ikea.” Mark steps up next to him and tangles their fingers. He’s streaming, his chat connected to his camera on his handheld tripod. Their hands are too low to be seen, but it’s plenty visible by the hundreds of real life eyes around them. 

Perhaps Mark just doesn’t care. Ethan looks at him questioningly, squeezing his hand. 

“Don’t want you to get lost.” He says as explanation. Well, now the chat can probably guess. 

“I’m not a child.”

“Adults get lost too.” 

Ethan shrugs and tries not to mind. It’s not that he’s embarrassed, it’s mostly just his 18 years worth of Catholicism that was forced down his throat making him believe that he will suffer eternity in hell for holding hands with his partner in public. He should be proud to be with Mark. He’s the type of guy who deserves someone that can meet his level. Ethan can only hope to be that someone. 

Partner? 

The thought came so naturally, he didn’t even realise at first. Mark’s never officially asked, but wouldn’t they be considered together? Boyfriends? Or maybe Mark isn’t there yet. Maybe he isn’t feeling as strong of feelings yet. Ethan’s definitely not planning on letting the L word slip this early. 

Even spending his life sheltered, he still knows a week is too soon for that one. 

As they walk, he looks around in wonder. As it turns out, ikea is a furniture store with full rooms mapped out with different styles for each one. All of the items in the display rooms can be bought. It’s definitely far more advanced than the stores Ethan’s been in. 

“Let me know if you want something.” 

“I can fit a wardrobe in the RV?” Ethan asks with a teasing grin. Mark rolls his eyes and the group stops at one of the display rooms. Everyone looks weirdly excited, bouncing on their toes. 

“Okay, we stay on this floor. Put your chats in emote mode, no cheating,” Mark turns to Ethan, “we’re playing hide and seek.” 

“Didn’t you just say you don’t want me to get lost?” He raises an eyebrow, taking the man’s phone when it’s handed to him. He knows Mark didn’t hold his hand so he doesn’t get lost. He knows it was simply because he wanted to, but he likes teasing him a bit, making his cheeks tint pink. 

“If you get lost just call one of them. You’ll have the chat, too.” 

The chat isn’t much company, with everyone only allowed to message emotes. After an intense five person rock paper scissor match, it’s decided that Alex is “it”. She turns and covers her eyes, starting to count. 

Ethan turns and starts walking in a separate direction of the rest of them, and finds himself in a huge section of tables, each table having their own item being sold. He makes his way through the tables, turning at random, then sliding down so sit against one that’s holding light bulbs. 

He watches the chat while he waits. They seem to be trying to communicate with him, but with their limited emotes they can’t spell out full words. It’s just a string of ‘e’ and ‘eef’. It’s a funny nickname. Ethan smiles as he reads, watching people do different emotes depending on what Mark is doing with the camera. It’s crazy to think that each message is a different person. So many people watching them. 

He leans his head back against the table, head starting to hurt from reading. His eyes droop but he blinks himself awake, peeking around the table to see if anyone is finding him yet. 

The second time his eyelids droop, he doesn’t wake himself back up. 

-

“Here he is. Fell asleep.” 

“Didn’t he sleep last night?”

“Definitely not. He and Mark had a room to themselves—“

“Piss off.”

Ethan wakes up slowly to the voices, then opens his eyes when there’s hands at his face, slapping him awake gently. He blinks against the bright lights of the store, and sees Mark crouched in front of him with a smile. The others stand behind him, looking amused. 

“Did I win?” Ethan asks, and they laugh, helping him to his feet. Mark curls an arm around his shoulders and Ethan leans against his side thankfully, all pins and needles from sleeping in the weird position. He’s still streaming and doesn’t seem to mind the physical contact for thousands to see. Ethan keeps forgetting to ask about that. 

“Yeah, actually. Not sure how long you slept but I started searching about half an hour ago.” Alex laughs, pointing her camera to him. 

They finish their walk around the store, and end up on the top floor where there seems to be a food court. 

“Mark, I believe you owe us meatballs?” Evan raises an eyebrow and Mark sighs like this is a huge inconvenience. 

“I suppose I have to.”

-

_ Ethan is a dancer. Twirling on stage in pointe shoes. His body moves gracefully, but he’s immensely strong.  _

_Mark steps onto the stage, wearing some sort of ninja costume, and they step towards each other. Mark, stomping and angry. Ethan, fluid and silent. When they meet in the middle, a bright spotlight flickers on above them, and they begin to dance. Opposites, but somehow exactly the same_.

“What’s on your mind?” 

Ethan blinks out of his daydream and looks to real life Mark, hand on his chin like he was watching him. 

“Sorry. Mom always said I daydream too much. Idle hands and all.” 

“Don’t be sorry. You aren’t idle when you’re daydreaming. You’re in a different world.” 

“I already feel like I’m in a different world.” Ethan motions to the nice hotel room around them. The open curtains that reveal the city, alive despite the time of night it currently is. 

“Do you miss your hometown?” Mark takes his hands and traces over his fingers, the lines on his palms. 

“Not really. Hard to miss it when there’s so much happiness everywhere else.” 

“There’s no happiness there?” 

“No.”

“So you know who did it, dont you?” 

Ethan sits up, pulling his hand away. His stomach turns. Mark sits up as well with a frown. Thankfully, he seems to know when Ethan doesn’t want to be touched. 

“I feel like I’m being interrogated sometimes with you.” 

“I’m sorry, love. I just want to know you. No more questions, alright?” 

Ethan frowns at him, finding it hard to stay angry when he looks so genuinely regretful. 

“When I say I don’t want to talk about it I really mean it.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry.” 

Ethan lays down and watches Mark mirror his position. The man is just pouting, clearly too curious for his own good. The tv is playing some random cartoon. Neither of them are watching. 

“I just..wanna know everything.” He eventually says after a few minutes. Ethan sighs and scoots in until they’re pressed together. Mark seems thankful for the physical contact, pulling him even closer by his waist. 

“You already know plenty. I’m the one who doesn’t here. You haven’t even told me about your family.” 

Mark’s expression falls, and he lifts his wrist, showing a tattoo on his wrist in a different language. Ethan touches it, tracing the foreign letters. 

“It’s my moms name, written in Korean. She died five years ago. My dad died when I was 18. My brother moved to Korea to live with our extended family after mom passed. I stayed here.” His eyebrows are furrowed, voice raspy. The conversation clearly makes him emotional but he doesn’t cry. 

“You’re alone?” Ethan asks, heart breaking. 

“The rest of my family being in a different country doesn’t make me alone. There’s a lot of love here.” He smiles despite the sad reminders of what he’s lost. 

“Do you ever think about leaving too?” 

“Yes. Actually, the plan was to join them after this trip.” 

“Was?” 

Mark shakes his head like Ethan doesn’t understand. He leans in and kisses him very gently, just a sweet peck. 

“Plans change.” He murmurs while he’s there. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your family. Family is important.” 

“Don’t need family to survive. You seem to be better off, if we’re looking for examples.” 

Ethan sits up, separating them. 

“They weren’t fair to me, but neither was I. I didn’t even leave a note.” 

“Don’t you think they deserve that?”

“Revenge is not something I strive for. It only leads to more pain.” 

Mark sits up and places a hand on his back, comforting him. He looks concerned, maybe a little panicked. 

“I’m sorry I keep reminding you of shitty memories.” It’s not hard to figure out why he seems panicked. 

“I’m not gonna run. I just..wanna sleep.” 

“Alright, so let’s sleep.” 

So they lie down together for sleep, shutting off the tv and the lights. Within ten minutes, Mark’s face evens out and he’s asleep. Ethan watches him for quite a while. It’s true, he wants to sleep, but he isn’t tired. Maybe it was the nap in ikea, or the long rest they had the night before, or his itch for a pencil as he stares at the man he loves. 

Slowly sitting up out of Mark’s arms, he slides out of the bed and finds his art tote with their trunks. He switches on the bedside lamp and sits cross legged in front of the man who sleeps soundly. 

Opening up his new sketchbook, Ethan picks up a graphite pencil, nearly buzzing with excitement to finally draw again. 

—•M•—

Mark wakes up early, as expected. It’s hard to sleep for a long time after that long sleep they’d had the night before. He stretches his arms over his head and looks to the side, blinking in surprise at the sight. 

Ethan lies in a ball, not even on a pillow. The bedside lamp is on and he’s barely got blanket over his feet. His sketchbook sits closed in front of him, a few pencil shavings scattered around him, graphite markings on his fingers. 

Mark smiles and picks up the sketchbook, turning to the first page. His heart skips as he sees himself drawn onto the page. He knew Ethan enjoyed art, but he didn’t realise the boy was so good at it. 

The detail is incredible. The drawing is just of Mark sleeping, but with some colour it could easily look like a photo. The boy has gotten every hair, every curve of the blanket, every tattoo perfectly duplicated onto the paper. 

He closes the sketchbook and steps out of the bed, collecting the pencil shavings and the pencils themselves, putting it all away into the tote again before heading for the restroom. 

After brushing his teeth and doing his business, he peeks back into the room to make sure the boy is still sleeping before hopping in the shower. 

The RV shower is nice and all, but nothing beats having some breathing room. This hotel was pretty steeply priced, but this shower makes up for it completely. So big it could easily fit five people. He loves when they get rooms during the trip. It’s nice to get some distance from each other, as well. They’d probably kill each other if they were together 100% of the trip. 

As he washes his hair, he remembers Ethan’s face last night as they talked about families. He seemed sad, but not in a ‘I have a fucked past’ sort of way, more like a ‘I miss my family’ way. Mark can’t see how he could miss those people. The family who didn’t speak up about his obvious depression. The family that belted him to bruises when he snuck out as a legal adult. Then again, he can’t fault the boy for missing his family. He was pretty sheltered, and probably doesn’t even realise the extent of fucked he was subjected to. It’s almost stalkhome syndrome-ish. 

Speak of the devil, the bathroom door opens and Ethan steps inside. The shower door is glass, but it’s really fogged up from the heat of the water. Mark continues to wash himself, watching Ethan’s blurry figure as he brushes his teeth, then seems to undress. Why would he want to get dressed in the steamy bathroom? 

Mark gets his answer rather quickly. Ethan strips down completely, just a blur of skin through the fogged door, until he steps over and opens it. Mark stands frozen in surprise as the boy steps into the shower with him, cheeks pink, then steps up under the water, hair matting over his face and eyes closing. He tips his head back and lets the water beat right onto his face.

With no eyes on him, Mark let’s his own wander, his heart racing as he looks over the boy’s nude body for the first time. He’s itching to touch him. Touch him everywhere. When he looks back up to Ethan’s face, he finds he’s been caught, his blue eyes looking more green with his pink cheeks. He steps out of the water and places a hand on Mark’s torso, right over his surgery scar. A handful of inches further down and..god, Mark needs to calm down. 

He’s given no such chance. Ethan tips his chin up and kisses him, all warm and wet. Mark’s brain fuzzes immediately. He turns and presses Ethan against the cold tile wall, the water on his own back as he deepens the kiss. The boy reaches up and tugs on his hair, like he just knows the pain makes him go crazy. 

He needs to calm down. He really needs to. 

He separates their lips, and Ethan gasps for a breath, eyes lidded and dilated, cheeks pink and lips so much pinker. 

“Fuck, we need to stop.” Mark wants to pull away but he only has so much self control. Ethan’s naked and wet and so fucking pretty. 

“P-please.” The boy whispers, barely audible over the water. His hands grasp Mark’s shoulders as he leans his head against the wall of the shower, baring his neck as he begs. It’s the hottest thing Mark’s ever seen in his fucking life. 

“We need to wait, baby.” He says, placing a hand on the shower wall next to Ethan’s head, hands in fists as he fights not to give in. He doesn’t know enough yet. Doesn’t know the details of what happened so he can avoid triggering him. Doesn’t even know who it was, at least. 

“Tired of waiting.” Ethan says, then he’s sliding down the shower wall to his knees. Mark reaches for him, thinking he’s falling, until suddenly there’s a hot wet mouth around him. 

Every single flicker of self control dies as he looks down at Ethan blowing him. He braces against the wall and pushes the boy’s wet hair from his face with his free hand. 

“Where’d you learn to fucking—god..” Mark can’t finish the sentence as Ethan flattens his tongue and deepthroat’s him. He sees the boy squeezing his thumb in his fist. A classic trick to prevent gagging. Mark has so many questions but he’s having a hard time keeping his mind straight. 

“C-close, pull—“ he doesn’t need to finish because the boy pops off and replaces his mouth with his hand, then he looks up at Mark with his seemingly innocent eyes and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out like he’s the star on some fucking porno. Mark’s knees feel like jelly as he comes pretty much immediately. Ethan’s making these breathy noises like he’s hungry for it as his face is painted. 

Mark can hardly stand. He leans heavily on the wall and attempts to catch his breath, looking down to see the boy has also orgasmed, seemingly with his own hand. He watches as Ethan stands up and washes himself clean, then he lifts onto his toes and presses a kiss to Mark’s cheek. 

“Guess I gotta brush again.” He sighs, then steps back out of the shower. 

Mark watches him go and leans against the shower wall for a very long time, finding it hard to form a complete thought after whatever the hell just happened. 

Where did Ethan learn that?

-

“I have many questions—“

“Well the front desk called. Check out is in ten minutes.”

“Ethan, where did you learn all of that?” Mark helps him pack up, trying to meet his eyes but the boy is hyperfocused on cleaning up the room. 

“I wanted to be prepared, and you let me borrow that laptop.” 

“You watched porn?”

“It was always blocked at home. I never realised it was free and so..accessible.” He’s blushing now. It’s so fucking cute. Mark steps up to him and takes his hand so he’ll stop packing, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“We were supposed to wait.” 

“You didn’t like it?” 

“Of course I did. Did you not notice me lasting barely two minutes?” 

“Well I don’t have much experience with how long it should last. Besides, that hardly counts towards what you’re saying we should wait for.” He keeps trying to go back to packing, to avoid the conversation that he’s clearly embarrassed about, but Mark feels weirdly touched. 

“You did research on how to give me a blowjob?” He grins, pressing a kiss to the boy’s temple, hands skating up under his shirt. He’s got this dip in his back that’s the perfect size for Mark’s hand. He’s perfect. 

“I like making you feel good.” Ethan mumbles, chewing on his lip nervously. 

“God..” he wants to say he loves him, but refrains, kissing him instead. 

The words have been implied many times by now, but it still feels too early. Too big of words to say after a week of knowing each other. He doesn’t want to say the L word and then Ethan is freaked and wants to run. 

He knows the boy feels the same, unless he is completely clueless when Mark implies it. 

On the other hand, he would hate for things to go unsaid. Just in case Ethan doesn’t know, he wants to say the words, and sometimes he just doesn’t care how little time they’ve known each other, or how little they even know of each other in the first place. 

Mark is definitely someone who knows that every moment matters when love is involved. Any second they could be taken away. Just the thought makes his chest feel tight. He doesn’t want Ethan to ever experience pain again, but he knows he can’t control what happens next. 

All he can do is enjoy what happens now. Any second Ethan could decide to go home. Even worse, he could decide he wants to go home alone. Even more worse, he could be taken away in many possible ways. More permanent ways. 

“Ethan, I—“ a shrill ringing cuts off his impulsive confession. The boy steps over and confirms that they are in fact leaving the room for check out. Mark quickly finishes packing and zips up his trunk, heart racing at what he was about to say. Despite the possible reactions. Despite it being so fucking early. 

“They’re coming up to clean in five minutes, we need to go.” Ethan seems to not have realised the inner turmoil that was happening. If Mark believed in it, he might think it was a sign to wait. 

In the end, there are plenty things that need to wait. While what happened in the shower was mind blowing, it can’t happen again. Not until Mark knows exactly what he can and can’t do around his boy. 

He needs to know who hurt him. Not to seek revenge, but to ensure that nothing bad happens again. 

-

“Got any plans for DC?” Alex plops down on the couch next to him, laptop in her arm. Mark pauses his own editing and sighs tiredly. They’ve been on the road for quite some time now. At least four hours. 

“Smithsonian museum for sure. I haven’t asked Ethan if his parents allowed him to believe in dinosaurs or not so it’d be nice to just show him. Uh, other than that probably just the declaration.” 

“I love how your plans have changed to evolve around him, instead of just hanging out with whatever we’re doing.” 

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, definitely not. You’re actually choosing things you want to do. You seem a lot happier in general, actually. Have you been on reddit recently?” She makes a new tab and navigates to Mark’s subreddit, and scrolls down past the first few memes then turns it towards him. 

‘Anyone notice how much happier Mark seems now that Ethan has joined the trip?’ The post reads. Mark reaches over and clicks to see more comments, finding many people are analysing how he acts around Ethan versus not. 

“Well, I guess I don’t need to make a big deal about coming out. They seem to know already.” He huffs a laugh, sitting back away from the post. 

“Of course they know already. Not hard to guess with you two. I thought you were crazy when you mentioned soulmates that time, but seeing you together makes me think you’re right.” 

Mark smiles down at his keys, unable to deny it even a little. 

“Well, I’m gonna go edit and take a nap. We still have five more hours of driving.” She yawns and walks back to the bunks. Mark shakes his head with a smile and goes back to his own editing. 

He’s still sitting there editing the same video three hours later when Ethan steps out of the curtain and pads over to sit next to him. He’s holding his sketchbook. 

“Can I see?” Mark asks, happy to set his laptop down for a break, knowing Ethan’s been drawing back there on his own. The boy nods and opens up the book, then sets it in his lap. 

“It was a bit shaky with the driving but I tried out the watercolours.” 

“Holy shit. Ethan..this is incredible.” Mark leans in to look at the details. It seems the boy has drawn Evan now. Sitting up in his bunk munching on corn nuts, iPad in his lap as he watches whatever show. Mark was right. With colour, it looks damn near real. 

“Turn the page.” 

Mark does, and his heart skips. His smile falls into shock. He holds the sketchbook in both hands as he looks down at his own mother, drawn exactly as he remembers her. Mid-laugh, hair framing her face. He barely even notices himself drawn next to her, also laughing. After a moment, he remembers the photo that this was drawn from. It was the Christmas before she died. Tom was behind the camera, and said something funny so they’d have candid smiles. Mark never realised she was looking at him. 

“I’m sorry, is it too much?” Ethan asks, hand on his arm. Mark blinks and looks at him, and sees he looks nervous. It takes him a good few seconds to realise his eyes are filled with tears. 

“No, it’s beautiful. I just..haven’t looked at her photo much since..” 

Ethan nods and reaches up to swipe his tears away. 

“I was thinking we could frame it. I just really wanted to do one for you. I don’t have money to pay you back for everything so this is pretty much all Ican do.” 

“It’s so much more than enough.” Mark shakes his head and gently places the sketchbook aside, before turning his head to kiss him. He’s never received such a meaningful gift before. So unexpectedly meaningful. Mom would have loved Ethan. She really would have. 

Suddenly, Mark is overwhelmed with the want to bring the boy to Korea. Introduce him to his family. What’s left of it. He wants to so incredibly bad that he almost wants to bail on the rest of the trip and fly out immediately. Only, Ethan doesn’t have a passport. 

The boy cups his cheek, making this pleased humming noise as the kiss deepens. Mark tugs at his waist until Ethan gets the hint and lifts onto his knees, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him, arms curling around his neck. 

Despite Tyler being just on the other side of the wall in the drivers seat, and the rest of the group probably being awake just over in the bunks, Mark is suddenly desperate to touch him. To thank him for the gift in what the boy’s been begging for for ages now. 

To fuck him right now with a high chance of being caught. 

Mark’s never thought of himself as an exhibitionist, but the thought of someone walking out of the bunks to see Ethan completely at his mercy, probably loud so the entire RV can hear him. Bent over the table, maybe. 

The thought is so enticing that he nearly does just that. Nearly picks him up and bends him over the table, but he knows it’s a stupid idea. That this isn’t some cheesy porn where their friends can’t hear worth a shit. 

Mark separates their lips and pulls Ethan’s hips closer, grinding them together. The boy gasps, hands tightening around his neck. 

“M-Mark..” he whispers in surprise, eyes glancing around them. Who knows, maybe Tyler can hear their kissing from the drivers seat. Maybe he knows everything. 

“I’m going to get us a hotel room in DC.” Mark leans in to murmur in his ear, then kisses down his jaw, hands wandering. Ethan is hard, his cock outlined on his leg in his sweatpants. Mark decides to pet him over the layers. The boy lowers his head to hide in Mark’s neck, shaking a bit as he’s pleasured. 

“Why a-are we getting a room?” Ethan mumbles, then latches his lips to Mark’s neck to hide his noises. 

“Gonna give you everything.” He whispers, palming Ethan. Desperate to pull him off while they could be caught at any second. He almost wants someone to catch them. To see Ethan whimpering in his lap, shaking. 

“Please, I want it now.” The boy starts to move his hips, grinding on him, and now Mark is picturing a different position. Ethan riding him, in control of how quick he’s getting it, moaning loud enough that the neighbouring rooms could hear it. Fucking hell. 

“Be patient, baby.” Mark tsks, and the layers between them are too thick. He wants to touch him directly. Feel exactly how desperate he is. 

“P-please, please, Mark, please.” Ethan’s whispers nearly break into a mutter, almost on the edge of too loud. 

Mark is helpless. With the begging, he loses his self control. He must give the boy something more, especially with the wonderful gift he was just given. 

“I can only give you a little. If you get too loud I’m going to stop.” Mark warns, then he reaches down and loosens the string on the boy’s sweatpants. They’re actually Mark’s, so they’re too big, but that’s perfect for right now. He reaches up and presses his middle finger to Ethan’s lips, and the boy sucks it in immediately like he just knows what to do. 

Once his finger is nice and wet, he pulls Ethan’s waistband as stretched as it’ll go, releasing his cock, then he sneaks his hand underneath him, and presses the tip of his finger to Ethan’s hole, watching his face carefully. 

The boy sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, breathing heavily, hand fisted very tightly in Mark’s shirt. 

“Have you done this to yourself before?” 

“No.” Ethan’s voice is barely audible. He seems nervous, but he’s leaking, so turned on. Mark wants him to come untouched. If he truly has never experienced his own prostate, there’s a high possibility he just might.

“Be as quiet as you can.” Mark warns, then he presses his finger inside. With just one finger, it shouldn’t hurt. The boy is so incredibly tight, so warm. Mark nearly falters thinking about himself being in there. 

He doesn’t bother with much foreplay, curling his finger and pressing that spot inside of him immediately. 

Ethan gasps, then presses his mouth to Mark’s shoulder to hide his own noises. The boy grinds down uncontrollably, like he can’t even fucking handle it. 

“Good?” Mark asks, then doesn’t give him a chance to answer, continuously pressing his prostate. He knows the boy probably won’t last long, especially with his first experience with it. 

“M-more, want—“ Ethan cuts off into a moan when Mark presses a second finger into him. 

“Shhh, any louder and you get nothing.” Mark warns, and Ethan puts his knuckle into his mouth, trying to quiet himself. It’s really damn hot. 

Knowing what he’s asking of him, he quickens the pace of his fingers, trying to make him lose his mind despite telling him to be quiet. 

Ethan reaches down a hand to touch himself, but Mark takes his wrist and stops him. 

“Untouched, go ‘head, baby.” 

“C-can’t—“

“You can, shh.” Mark leans his head back to watch his face. Ethan’s nails dig into his shoulders, deliciously painful, and he presses his lips together to try and stay quiet as he comes, face breaking, squeezing tightly around Mark’s fingers. It’s beautiful. He’s so beautiful. 

Mark takes his fingers away and reaches blindly for the paper towels attached to the wall holder, wiping him clean, though he can’t do much for the stains. He gets a fresh paper and wipes the sweat from the boy’s hairline. 

“Good? You okay?” 

“Very good.” Ethan smiles, all shaky happy after that. He lowers his head and lies down on his shoulder, nose to his neck for a cuddle. Mark rubs over his back, happy to make him happy. 

He peeks over Ethan’s shoulder to the drawing still on the couch next to them. 

“After this trip, I want you to meet my family.” 

The boy lifts his head, eyes wide. 

“Like..in Korea?” 

“Yeah. Does that sound like something you’d like?” 

“I mean, I’ve never been out of the country, I don’t have—you want me to meet your family?” 

“Yes, of course I do. My friends back home, too. While we’re on the topic of the end of the trip, my house is, uh, pretty lonely.”

“You’re asking me to move in with you?” Ethan takes a deep breath, seemingly a bit overwhelmed. Mark falters. Maybe his feelings weren’t as obviously implied. 

“Do you want to? Stay with me after the trip?”

“Like for how long?”

“I don’t know, forever?”

Ethan laughs, rubbing a hand down his face. He’s not running, thankfully. He plays with the button on Mark’s shirt, not moving to stand up from his lap. 

“You want that?”

“God, Ethan, what did you think I meant when I said I’m in this? I’m with you.” 

“I dunno. I’m not, like, good at this.” He flushes. 

“You’re great at this, actually. Driving me fucking insane.” 

Ethan grins, hiding his face again. It’s so cute. Mark might explode. He’s never loved someone so much before. Never felt like he’s flying off the rails every time they’re alone together. 

The RV hits a bump, and Mark peeks at the clock. Still a few hours until they hit DC. He can’t wait. 

-

“You’re getting a hotel room?” Tyler asks, stepping back into the bunk area, yawning after his time driving. 

“Yeah. We um..yeah.” Mark has no excuse. It’s clear Tyler knows anyway, grinning with a raised eyebrow. 

Ethan steps back into the bunks from the restroom, blinking sleepily, holding his sketchbook to his chest, his tote over his shoulder. He’d slept on the couch next to Mark for the rest of the drive while he was editing. It was very distractingly cute. 

“You two have fun. Don’t forget to meet us at the smithsonian tomorrow.” Tyler plops onto his bunk, looking like he wants to tease but thankfully not doing so in front of them. 

“Is the hotel close?” Ethan asks, looking like he’s far from wanting to walk. 

“I called an Uber, don’t worry.” 

“A what?” 

Mark just laughs and takes their trunks, leading him out of the RV and into the night. The Uber is waiting across the street, and seems like a nice dude, making conversation as they drive to the hotel. Mark can’t wait to get there and show him the suite. 

He tips the friendly Uber and takes Ethan’s hand so he doesn’t fall the fuck asleep as they walk into the lobby. 

“Need your bags taken up, Mr. Fischbach?” 

Mark sets the cases down and takes Ethan’s tote from his shoulder, sliding his sketchbook inside and handing it over. 

“Thank you.” Mark grins when he turns back to see Ethan looking confused. He leads him over to the elevator, hardly able to admire the incredibly nice lobby when the boy is around, all smiley and waking up by the second as they step into the elevator. It’s one of those nice ones with a glass back, overlooking the city as they ride up. 

Ethan clutches his arm and looks out at all of the light. They just go up and up. 

“This hotel is expensive, isn’t it.” It’s not a question. Mark huffs a laugh, hand on the small of his back. 

“You don’t want to know. You’ll love the room even more, just wait.” 

Ethan’s wide awake and bouncing with energy when they reach the room. Opening it up, their bags are sat ready next to the doorway. There’s a tray stood by the big ass bed. Ethan’s looking at the huge flatscreen on the wall. 

“C’mon, let’s have a bath.” 

“A bath?” Ethan walks across the room to the bathroom, and Mark steps up behind him to find the attendants have done beautifully, the bath is steaming and bubbly, two glasses and a bottle of champagne sat in ice next to it. They’ve even put rose petals scattered around. 

Mark reaches around Ethan’s waist, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. The boy giggles, putting a hand over his, tilting his head to give him more room. 

“Water’s gonna get cold.” The boy mumbles as Mark presses kisses over his neck, then unzips his jacket. 

“Let’s get in, then.” He says, and pulls Ethan’s jacket from his arms, setting it on a chair by the doorway. 

They get undressed, probably kissing too much. The boy is fucking glowing, or maybe Mark’s hopelessly in love with him. 

The water is nice and hot, and they barely spend time cleaning and more time laughing like lunatics, kissing until their lips are sore, hands wandering a bit too much. 

The champagne never even gets opened. They’re hardly even dried off before falling onto the bed. Laughs long gone, Mark fumbles for the lube, overexcited, way too fucking excited. 

Ethan’s bent over the edge of the bed, face down as Mark trails kisses over his spine. 

“So beautiful, love.” He murmurs, and lubes up his fingers, gently spreading him to press one finger inside. His bruises are just barely fading, probably still a big sore after sitting for a while. 

He hesitates before pressing a finger into him, and looks him over. Ethan’s eyes are closed, hand fisted in the duvet below them. His hair is still wet, falling over his face. His shoulders are tense. He’s tense all over, really. Not relaxed. 

Mark’s chest constricts painfully as he reads the situation. 

He wipes his fingers dry and lies on the bed parallel to him, hesitant to touch him when he’s clearly uncomfortable. 

“I’m ready, please.” Ethan says, opening his tear filled eyes. He’s crying. Mark wants to fucking die. 

“Don’t lie to me, Ethan. C’mon.” He places a hand over his, fisted in the sheets, and pulls him up from his frozen position. They curl up under the huge duvet, and Ethan cries on his chest. He’s even shaking. Mark tries to figure out which part triggered him. What point he changed from giggling to terrified. He can guess. 

“Was it the position?” He asks in a near whisper, heart breaking hearing Ethan’s whimpers. This is the exact thing he was scared of. The exact reason he wanted to know everything first. To prevent this from happening. He feels him nod against his chest, and can only tighten his arms around him, wishing he could take his pain away. 

“I’m sorry, fuck. I’m sorry.” 

Ethan shakes his head, lifting up from his chest and cupping his cheek. He’s all pink splotches and wet eyes. 

“Don’t say anything.”

“Ethan—“

“Don’t talk, just give me a minute.” 

Mark quiets, frowning. Ethan lifts his chin and kisses him, breathing slowly. Calming himself. Mark is happy to know he can calm him. He holds him close, rubbing circles on his back. 

The boy pulls away and sighs, cheeks pink. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?”

“I dunno. I can’t talk when..here—“ he rolls over so his back is to him. Mark rests his temple on his palm and keeps an arm around the boy’s waist. 

It’s quiet for a while. Ethan takes a lot of deep breaths, and holds Mark’s hand, tracing over the lines on his palm. Mark waits patiently, watching him closely. 

“It was two years ago. About a month after my 16th birthday. Andrew and I were waiting for mom and dad to be finished talking to people after church. We were throwing a ball with some other kids and my aim was terrible and I broke a vase. Andrew told mom and someone else told our priest, George. Goofing off in the church is against pretty much every rule ever, so I was sent to father George’s office for disciplinary. I thought I was going to do usher duty..” he clears his throat, hands shaking in Mark’s, his eyes squeezed closed. 

“He told me to bend over his desk and take my pants off. I didn’t think it was that weird because we would get paddled at school, but he just..he didn’t use anything to make it not hurt, he j-just—“

“Take a breath, love.” Mark combs his hair back with his free hand as he breathes. He’s fucking pissed the fuck off, but making sure the boy is calm takes priority over every other emotion. 

“I tried to scream for him to stop but he kept telling me to pray, and held me down. After a few minutes I just left.”

“Left?”

“Like, I just wasn’t there anymore. I don’t know how long it happened for. Then he told me I was forgiven so I went back to my parents. I was bleeding in my shorts. When I got home my mom started up laundry and pulled me aside into the laundry room. She asked for my shorts and I told her what happened. I was crying a lot and I showed her the bruises on my wrists. She told me that God punishes children who don’t listen. She told me I needed to pray for forgiveness and never let me bring it up again.” 

“Fuck, Ethan, what the fuck—“

“I told her he hurt me and she said that if I didn’t goof around in the house of God then I wouldn’t have been hurt. I told her I was depressed a year later and she said depression is a punishment for the unholy. I never realised until I met you that I wasn’t—I didn’t deserve that.” 

“She didn’t get you help? She didn’t report it or anything?”

“Nothing. I think she may have told dad and Andrew but I don’t know for sure.”

“Ethan, you realise how fucked up that is, right? You know it wasn’t your fault. Both that priest and your mother need to be in jail—“

“Please don’t call the police.” He turns to face him suddenly, eyes wide and panicked, hands clutching his shirt, so incredibly vulnerable right now. Mark  _needs_ to put his anger aside, he just has to find a way to do so. 

“I won’t, don’t worry. I won’t do anything without making sure you’re okay with it. I promise.” 

“I’m sorry—“

“What’re you sorry for? None of this is your fault, Ethan. Not a single second of it.” 

The boy clutches him like his life depends on it, breathing harshly. 

“I ruined our hotel plans.” He murmurs sadly. 

“They’re far from ruined. I’m not with you for sex. Just being here is enough.” 

Ethan, probably sporting a nice cry headache, curls up against him closely, closing his eyes as he still shakes lightly. Mark holds him as tight as he can, lulls him to sleep with some quiet humming. Once the boy is unconscious, he climbs out of the bed and finds his little stash tucked in his duffel pocket, and his little glass pipe protected in some clothes. He steps out onto the balcony and smokes. 

Normally, he just smokes for the fun of it, with his friends or for a goofy stream. Now, his hands shake as he packs the weed into the pipe. He’s filled to the brim with anger. How could someone hurt this boy? Even younger version of himself. Even more naïve. Fucking 16 years old. Happy. Sure, brainwashed with shitty religious views that are far past the point of what religion is meant to be. But still..happy. An evil man did this to him, a man who is meant to be a child of God. It’s almost ironic, in a sick fucking way. 

Not just the priest, but his mother. It was worse than he’d thought. He was already angry knowing the mother ignored her sons depression, but she is told straightforward that her son was raped and she blames him?! It’s unfathomable. Mark inhale the pot deeply, desperately trying to calm himself so he doesn’t drive right back down there and commit back to back murder. 

Then he’s crying, head in his hands as he mourns the loss of Ethan’s innocence. Such a young age, his virginity stolen from him. Enough to make him bleed. His trust, out of the window. His love, gone with the wind. His happiness, swept under the rug. It’s horrific. Mark’s favourite person in the world was hurt in such a way that he has no clue what to do next. How to help. He knew, deep down, but hearing it confirmed? 

He sets his pipe and lighter down, desperately trying to wipe his eyes dry, and clasps his hands together, pressing his forehead to them. 

He’s only prayed one other time in his life. He was never into religion growing up. His mother was a believer, but she never instilled Christianity into her children until dad died. After his death, she started going to church, desperate to find some peace. Mark and Thomas accompanied her most of the time, just so she wasn’t alone. Mark never thought religion was more than bullshit, but he prayed that night when she was dying in the hospital. His prayers had gone unanswered. 

He still doesn’t believe in god, but Ethan does, so he squeezes his eyes closed and takes a few deep breaths so he can pray without sobbing. 

“Whoever’s listening, I know we’re not on good terms, I know I talk shit about religion every time it’s mentioned, but I just..this isn’t about me. Please, just, if you care for your followers, just give him a break. Ethan deserves justice in his life, obviously, but if you can’t manage that, at least give him some happiness. Please don’t let him give up. I can’t live without him. I know I sound desperate, and it’s because I am. Do whatever the fuck you want with me, just don’t let him down. Please.” Mark exhales, voice shaky, and wishes nothing more but to switch places with the boy. Take the pain from him for himself. 

He doesn’t sleep that night. Not a wink. 

-

“You look terrible.” Evan says as Mark steps into the RV. Ethan follows behind him, not seeming to be off put too bad by their talk last night. He just seems like he always is, excited for the new day and yet sad. Mark, on the other hand, feels like his whole world has changed. 

“Didn’t sleep much. We going smithsonian first?” He quickly changes the subject. Ethan sits next to him on the couch and takes his hand, as if Mark needs comforting. As if Mark is the one who’s gone through such terrible shit. 

“That’s the plan!” Evan sighs, setting up cameras for the stream. He handles the recording for Mark’s streams most of the time, especially when they go to cool places like a museum. 

“Why were you on the balcony last night?” Ethan asks in a murmur, head on his shoulder. Mark turns to kiss his head, unable to help the urge to. He’s adorably sleepy after waking up this early. Mark’s on the opposite end of sleepy. He’s so tired that he’s wide awake. The sorta thing that only happens after an all-nighter. 

“Depends on when you woke up and saw me.” 

“Like 2-ish. You were just sitting there staring at the city.” 

Mark doesn’t want to say that he wasn’t staring at the city. He was incredibly deep in thought, to be real. He was thinking so much about what Ethan’s gone through. How to move forward correctly. How to bring up the option of pressing charges to him. 

“Yeah..couldn’t sleep.”

“Because of me?”

“Not in a bad way.” Mark doesn’t want to lie to him. Promised he wouldn’t again. The boy frowns and lies his head back onto his shoulder, curling his arm around Mark’s and holding his hand. It’s really nice, and thankfully distracting. 

Alex drives the RV across the city. They probably could’ve taken cabs, but they decided on the RV just in case they go shopping and need to put bags away. 

“I don’t want you to look at me different.” Ethan confesses so quietly it’s barely audible. Mark closes his eyes, heart somehow breaking a little more. 

“I won’t. The only thing that’s changed is that I’ll be sure not to let you go near that place ever again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” 

-

“Yes, chat, I know the ankylosaurus is superior to them all. Chill with the spam.” Mark tsks at the camera in Evan’s hands. He so damn tired, but seeing Ethan’s face filled with wonder really makes it hard to remember what sleep is. 

They stop at a huge allosaurus skeleton, and Mark continues to read chat as the rest of them look at the bones. He hasn’t been keeping up with it too much, but apparently he and Ethan are a big topic in the community. There’s plenty of people in chat asking for confirmation or just analysing their every move. Mark sighs and reaches for the boy, tangling their fingers together. Ethan doesn’t seem to mind, holding his hand as they circle the skeletons, eyes wide. With Evan recording, they’re definitely on camera. 

“How did your religion explain dinosaurs?” Mark asks, watching chat explode as they hold hands. Ethan stops at the description card and reads about the habitat and diet of the allosaurus. 

“It doesn’t, really. Many people try to explain it but with evidence from the bible, the earth is only 6000-ish years old.” He doesn’t sound sure. Mark smiles, looking down at the description card. 

“All of these cards are dated in the millions.” He says, watching Ethan’s face scrunch up like he’s annoyed. 

“I know.” He says, pulling him along to a different skeleton. 

“Guys, I’m not trying to change his religion, I don’t care if he’s catholic or not. I’m just asking questions.” Mark rolls his eyes at the camera, turning back to Ethan with a smile. The boy isn’t looking at the skeleton, he’s looking behind him, eyes wide. He looks almost scared. 

“You okay, love?” 

“We need to leave—“ Ethan’s backing away, trying to run. Mark’s heart rate spikes as he tightens his hand so the boy cant leave. 

“Communication, Ethan, don’t run, please.” 

“My brother’s here.” Ethan looks terrified, stepping around to hide in front of him. Not running, thankfully. Mark holds his hand tightly anyway. He peeks over his shoulder, but he’s never met Ethan’s family, so he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. 

“Where?” 

“In the blue shirt. He’s near the door.” 

Mark looks back again, finding the guy easily now. He’s standing near the exit staring down at a phone. After a few seconds, he looks up from his phone directly to them. He was watching stream, undoubtedly. 

“Will he hurt you?” Mark asks as the guy starts to approach them. Ethan clutches his arm, chewing on his lip. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Do we need to leave?”

“I-I..I don’t know—“

“Ethan!” The guy steps up to them, arm reaching out to pull his brother towards himself. Mark stops him, stepping in front of the boy. 

“Why are you here?” He asks. The man looks at him, frowning deeply. 

“Please, I need to talk to him. Alone.” 

“Not gonna happen.” 

“Our family matters shouldn’t be..broadcasted.” The man glances behind Mark to the camera. 

They end the stream, and step outside into the warm air. Mark keeps glancing to Ethan to make sure he’s okay, but the boy just looks anxious, eyes following his brother as they come to a stop outside next to the stairs. 

“How did you know I was here, Andrew?” Ethan asks, revealing his name in the process. Mark doesn’t let go of the boy for even a second. He knows how his parents have hurt him, so he doesn’t trust the brother whatsoever. 

“I’m older, I get more internet privileges. I was watching twitch long before you two started getting big.” 

“Getting big?” Ethan looks to him, eyebrows furrowed. 

“We may have gained some traction. The community really likes you.” Mark doesn’t give the details. He doesn’t mention just how many  _million_ have come in since Ethan joined. Then he’d have to get into shipping and why his community is so crazy about it. Too much to explain now. 

“So you watch the streams?”

“Yeah, I saw a clip of you two holding hands on Reddit. It took me a few days to be able to figure out where you were. Whoever handles your business email didn’t believe me.” Andrew’s jaw is tight when he looks at Mark. He won’t stop glancing down at their arms, where Ethan’s hand is curled around him, clinging out of probably anxiety. The PDA makes Andrew uncomfortable. Good. 

“So why are you here? I’m not coming home—“

“Ethan, you don’t understand what’s happened since you ran away.”

“I didn’t run away. I’m 18 and fully allowed to leave if I please. Don’t tell me you miss me.” Ethan sounds pissed off in a way that Mark’s never heard before. He’s seen Ethan devastated and happy and exhausted. Angry? Not yet. 

“We do miss you. We didn’t..we didn’t know what happened, dad and I. We didn’t know.” Andrew stresses. Mark believes him. He looks just about as emotionally drained as Mark did last night. 

“Why did she tell you? To explain why I rebelled her?” 

“No, she had a mental breakdown. Blames herself for you leaving. Dad won’t stop crying because he also blames himself, since he whipped you that night. They’re getting divorced. Please, just come show them you’re okay so they can stop feeling so guilty.” 

“Are you serious?” Ethan laughs humourlessly, his eyes glossing, “you came across the country to ask me to come back and lie to fix the people who hurt me? I’m not okay, Andrew, and I’m never going back to that house or that town ever again.” 

“Ethan, please—“

“Fuck you! You’ve barely spoken to me for years! You and our parents never cared about me unless I was breaking some bullshit sins that don’t make sense! I don’t ever want to see you again in my life.” Ethan’s so angry his face is red. He looks like he’s about to bolt so Mark pulls him away, all the way back to the RV. 

The boy is shaking in his arms when he pulls him into a hug. 

“Okay, you’re okay. You cursed.” Mark huffs a laugh, rather impressed that he stood up for himself. 

“I’m going to hell.” The boy mumbles in his chest. Mark smiles and sways them back and forth, combing his fingers through his soft hair. 

“If you’re going to hell, I’m fucked.” 

The boy giggles, pulling back to smile up at him, his eyes still glossy. Mark reaches up to swipe a thumb over his cheek. He’s soft. His smile is relieving. Almost enough to make him forget about their conversation the night before. 

“I ruined yet another stream..and the museum.” 

Mark lowers his chin and kisses him sweetly. 

“Stop saying you ruin things. Your shit is my shit, okay?” 

“Fine,  _we_ ruined it.” 

Mark groans and chases him back to the large bed in the back of the RV, tickling him until he’s laughing so much he’s crying. Then they’re kissing. Then Ethan’s pulling his shirt like he wants it off. 

Mark sits up and yanks the shirt off, then bends back down to connect their lips again. With his skin exposed, Ethan feels him up, legs spreading so he fits in between, calves pulling him closer so they’re pressed together. 

It’s escalating so quickly. Mark grips the blanket under them and tries to resist. 

“Slower, baby.” He mumbles against the boy’s lips. Ethan makes a noise and pushes him away enough to meet his eyes. His cheeks are pink. Mark’s so fucking in love with him. 

“This position is good.” He says very carefully, so it’s understood. Mark swallows thickly and lifts his head to look around them. 

“I want you first time to be..not in the back of an RV.”

“It’s not my first time.” Ethan whispers, eyebrows furrowing. He reaches down, hands feeling over his torso, tickling at his waistband. Seducing him. 

“Yes it is. You haven’t experienced it like it’s meant to be experienced. I want it to be nice. I want to take it slowly, not rush it before the group realises we’re gone and walks in here.” 

“It’s because of what we talked about, isn’t it? You think of me differently.” Ethan turns his head to the side and closes his eyes with a deep sigh, neck exposed. Mark bends down and presses his lips there, unable to control the urge. 

“That’s not it at all. I want you so bad it hurts. Think about it all the time.” He trails his kisses down Ethan’s neck as he talks, sinks his teeth into his throat. The boy makes a high pitched noise, legs tightening around him. 

“You can have me, p-please.” Ethan cups his cheek, and their eyes meet again. Mark can only handle so much self control. 

He connects their lips again, then reaches down and pops the button on Ethan’s jeans. The boy’s breath hitches in anticipation. 

“Mark, I want—“

The group can be heard before the door even opens. Mark quickly buttons Ethan’s jeans back and throws his shirt back on. 

“Boys? You in here?” Alex calls into the RV. Mark steps out of the curtain, running a hand through his hair to straighten it up. 

“We’re alright. Sorry to bail.” 

Alex grins, reaching down and muting her stream mic for some reason. 

“I see. Sorry to interrupt.”

“We were just talking—“

“Your shirt’s inside out.” Alex huffs a laugh and backs out of the RV. Mark looks down at his shirt and groans, pulling it off to fix it. He can hear her telling Evan and Tyler by the sound of their laughter. 

He decides no shirt is just more comfortable and walks back to the bed. Ethan is up on his knees looking out of one of the back windows, probably watching the cars roll by. 

“Never gonna live this one down.” Mark plops down onto the bed, arms behind his head. He’s honestly just really tired after staying up all night. He feels the bed move as Ethan does, and then the boy touches his bare chest, hand over his sternum. 

“So they’re leaving us alone?” Ethan says very suggestively. Mark peeks an eye open to smirk at him. 

“For now. Don’t get any ideas.” 

“What about ideas I already have?” The boy asks, then he lifts up to straddle him, much like he was that day on the couch. Mark gulps at the memory, unable to stop thinking about it now that he has. 

“Couldn’t have worked anyway. Lost the lube.” It’s a lame excuse, even though it’s true. He did lose the lube he bought to the hotel, but he has a spare. Something he decides not to mention. Withholding the truth isn’t lying, right?

“Well it doesn’t have to be needed.” 

“True, we don’t need lube to sleep.” 

The boy sighs exasperatedly and finally lies down, mostly on Mark, peppering kisses on his chest. 

“You’re making it really hard to sin.”

“I see. You want to have sex to rebel, not because you want to share the love between us?” Mark teases. Ethan sighs, slapping his stomach weakly. 

“Yep, that’s the only reason.” He mumbles, clearly sleepy as well. How they end up bailing on so many plans to sleep is beyond comprehension. 

“My pride is ruined.” Mark yawns, rubbing soft circles into Ethan’s back. The boy is quiet for a minute, so he nearly falls asleep. 

“Do you think I should’ve gone with Andrew? He talked about nervous breakdowns and stuff.” 

“None of it’s your fault, they’re just finally experiencing the guilt from their shitty excuse for parenting.”

“Yeah, but should I have gone anyway? I feel bad about turning hurting people away.” 

“Didn’t they do that to you?” He feels Ethan lift his head, so he opens his eyes, finding furrowed brows and a frown. It’s rather cute. 

“Getting even is not a goal. I don’t need to waste time trying to get revenge. They will be given their punishments as they’re deserved.” 

“I don’t get it. You told Andrew that sins were bullshit and now you’re worried about going to hell still?” 

Ethan lies his head back down with a heavy sigh. 

“I’m questioning. My beliefs seem to change by the minute these days. Sometimes I’m overwhelmingly angry at god for all of this, and other times I feel like it’s a test of my strength and faith. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“But you agree that the dinosaurs were real, yes? They lived millions of years ago, that’s a lot longer than your bible claims the world has been around.” 

“I don’t have to believe the bible to believe in god, you know. Technically it wasn’t written by his own hand.” 

Mark smiles, closing his eyes once more. He’s filled to the brim with pride. Ethan’s grown so much in just under two weeks. He’s smart, funny, brave, and incredibly resilient. Despite his upbringing, he’s very open minded. Kind. 

He’d make a great dad. 

The thought comes so suddenly that it nearly takes his breath away. Kids were never something he’d considered before. Kids are cool and all, but he just was never interested in having one of his own. Now, the thoughts come a mile a minute. Ethan holding a baby. Ethan laughing as a kid takes its first steps. Playing Rock Paper Scissors at 4AM to decide who’s changing the crying infant. Going to parent teacher meetings. Graduations. Sitting on a porch all grey haired waiting for the grandkids to visit. 

Mark smiles at the thought of the potential future, pulling the boy closer, who sniffles tiredly, nearly asleep. 

“I know it’s really fucking early but..do you want kids?” Mark asks in a nervous mumble. 

“Mmm-hmm.” Ethan hums. He’s too close to sleep to properly hear him. It’s probably for the best. Mark’s heart pounds as he thinks about his question. He’s been with a handful of people, and nobody changed his mind about kids. Even that one girl who told him she wanted some with him. Even then his decision never budged. 

He hasn’t even told Ethan he loves him and he’s already imagining them growing old together. His feelings here are almost too strong to handle. Too much for his poor heart to take. Perhaps that’s why kids have approached his mind. He loves Ethan so much that he needs to share it with a tiny human. The thought feels way too cheesy, but it’s true. 

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, and he dreams about little sticky fingers and wedding rings. 

—•E•—

Ethan wakes up to big brown eyes staring at him. He blinks in surprise, putting his hand on Mark’s face to push him away 

“Creepy.” He complains, rolling over away from him. The man just scoots in and cuddles him from behind, pressing kisses everywhere within reach. 

“You talk in your sleep.” Mark says, hand grazing up his chest under his shirt. It feels nice. He’s still not used to being touched so casually. It makes his heart race. 

“What did I say?” He asks, feeling embarrassed just at the possibilities. He can’t seem to remember his dream. 

“My name, mostly. I believe there was some begging.” Mark’s lips trail down to his shoulder, his hand caressing further and further down. Ethan swallows thickly and turns onto his back, lifting his head to kiss him. 

The man doesn’t seem to mind, mouth opening immediately. He hasn’t shaved since they met, so his facial hair is growing in, scratching at his chin. It’s really hot for some reason. Or maybe Ethan’s just not used to a relationship and gets turned on by the smallest touch. 

“Boys! You ready to go steal the declaration?” Tyler calls back to them. Mark pulls away and looks annoyed at getting interrupted yet again. Ethan smiles, tilting his head in confusion. 

“What does he mean steal?” 

“National Treasure? Nicolas Cage?” 

“I haven’t seen many tv shows—“

“It’s a movie.” Mark heaves a dramatic sigh and flops back onto the bed like this movie is some super popular thing. It might be. 

“Well we could just stay in and watch it instead of going.” Ethan proposes with a grin. Of course, he isn’t planning to do any actual watching. 

“Nope, we’re going.” Mark sits up with a smirk, seeing through him clearly. Ethan pouts, leaning back on his hands and watching him stretch his arms above his head. 

Mark sees him staring and steps up to the edge of the bed, yanking the blanket from him and then taking his ankles, pulling him to the edge as well, bending down to kiss him. Ethan rather likes being manhandled, but the man refrains from it most of the time, probably not wanting to give him reminders of anything. 

He pulls at his shoulders, trying to get him to lay on top, but Mark doesn’t budge, just giving him sweet kisses. Sometimes Ethan wants him so bad that he doesn’t care who could be listening. Watching, even. 

The man just won’t give in. He needs to get creative. That blowjob in the shower seemed to be good. Maybe he just needs to go back to searching online. Surely there’s advice on a situation as specific as this? 

-

The declaration is just a huge old piece of paper, as expected. Ethan doesn’t see why it’s a big deal. His school was sort of light on history. Ethan didn’t learn about slavery until after puberty, even. He’d gone home at 13 after his first lesson on the subject and had used their shared desktop to search up more information he was confused about. Mom had found him in tears an hour later with 24 tabs open on the monitor. It’s an understatement to say the catholic school he graduated from did not care to give the full story. 

He was mainly taught about Jesus. Before, during, and after. He was taught about sinning and he was taught that going to mass and repenting will lead him to heaven. Now, he wonders how that works. Does it really matter the sin, then? Could a murderer ask for forgiveness and be allowed into eternal happiness? Could father George? 

If someone who hurts others can be forgiven and led to heaven, why should Ethan stress about premarital sex? Homosexuality? Maybe he’ll even get a tattoo. He’s really come to like them, so as long as he repents he’ll be good, right? Ethan can’t think of a counter to this. He never thought of it this way. The fact that forgiveness is such a huge thing for catholics, and yet two men loving each other will cause judgement. 

Loving thy neighbour seems to be a blurry concept sometimes. He never thought of sinning like this, probably because he never got an outsider view of it all. Never stepped away for a moment to see the holes. The hypocrisy. The questions with no answers. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Mark brings him out of his thoughts, settling a hand on his lower back. Ethan looks up from one of the pages of the constitution that he wasn’t even reading. He doesn’t want to get into this with him yet. Doesn’t want to admit that he might be doubting his upbringing more and more each day. He can’t fully talk about it until he comes to a conclusion. 

“Just concentrating. Reading is hard for me.” It’s not a lie, at least. 

“How is it hard?”

“Makes my head hurt. The letters jumble up sometimes. I’ve always had a hard time concentrating, though.”

“Hmm. Have you ever been given instructions and don’t know what to do after reading it multiple times?” 

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Ethan says. 

“Did you make good grades in school?” 

“Not really. Mainly C’s.” 

“You probably have dyslexia or something. Your parents never tried to figure out why you weren’t doing well?” Mark leads them around the room filled with old documents. 

“They mostly just took my internet privileges because I wasn’t using my potential.” 

Mark huffs like he’s annoyed and continues on, eyebrows furrowed. Ethan trails along, teeth sunk in his lip. Sometimes he thinks the man is angry with him, but he has to remind himself that it’s not the case. For some reason, he just defaults to assuming he’s done something wrong. Only now does he realise it’s because that was always the case back home. Anytime his parents were angry, it usually stemmed from something Ethan related. 

He still feels guilty when he thinks poorly of his parents. He can’t stop remembering Andrews face, just devastated. He can’t imagine any of the three remembers of his family having problems because he ran away. He always assumed they were relieved this whole time. To be rid of his antics. To be fair, Andrew has hardly glanced in his direction in months. It’s hard to imagine the man missing his brother. 

Maybe he should’ve gone back home. Just to see what happened after he left. He didn’t leave a note, an email, or even a word. He’d just run off across the country. He considers visiting back for just a talk. Tell his parents he’s found love. Tell them he won’t be returning again. Give some closure to everyone involved. Ethan may be resentful, but he doesn’t wish for his family to be in pain because of him. He knows that no matter what they’ve done, they will have to face God in the end. Ethan’s sorrow will be justified. 

It’s just..he can’t help it sometimes. To be angry or sad. He sees someone like Mark, who’s sadness stems from loss rather than abuse. He is carefree, loving, and doesn’t seem to care about the afterlife. No questioning or fighting his own beliefs. 

Ethan wants that. He wants to be carefree. He knows that going back home will most likely just end in more pain. He can’t do it, he decides. He can’t do that to himself. 

-

It’s just..what if? 

Surely Andrew watched the stream to find out where he was, so he must know about him and Mark. The two of them were even linked arms outside of the Smithsonian. Knowing his brother is dating a man, he still begged for Ethan to come home. Still loves him, at least. 

What if his parents are the same? He can’t imagine his parents putting aside their beliefs for their son, but perhaps they care more about him than something from an ancient book. What if that’s what Andrew was trying to say? What if Ethan cut him off and left before he could reveal something like that? 

Ethan sets down his half finished painting of a dog and slides out of the bunk, holding onto the wall so he doesn’t fall over with the movement of the RV as he pads to the front area. Mark’s sitting on the couch under a blanket, tapping at his phone. 

Ethan walks over and crawls onto the couch. Mark’s already got the blanket bunched up in his lap, so it’s easy to lie down, head in the man’s lap. He closes his eyes, nose to Mark’s stomach, and sighs contently when the man immediately starts combing through his hair. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m considering going back home, just for a visit.” Marks fingers pause in his hair, then he continues on. 

“Do you miss your family?” 

“Not even a little. I just don’t want to leave things like they were left. I feel like I need to tell them that I won’t be returning. Tell them about you, too.” 

“You don’t owe them an explanation.” 

“I know..I just wonder if maybe they’d accept me or maybe even apologise. I mean, would Andrew come all the way up here for no reason?” He peeks up to find Mark all furrowed eyebrows. He doesn’t like the idea, clearly. 

“I’d hate to bring you down just for disappointment, but if you really want to, just let me know and I’ll book some tickets.” 

“You’ll come with me?” Ethan asks, and watches the man’s face smooth into a smile as if it’s obvious. 

“Where you go, I go, remember?” 

With a smile, Ethan closes his eyes as Mark combs through his hair. It’s so nice that he’s lulled to sleep within five minutes. 

It must not be too long before he wakes, because both of them are in the same position. Mark’s hand has stopped in his hair, and now just rests in the dip of his waist. His stomach rumbles as he talks. 

“I dunno. He might want to soon. Our next stop might just be the airport.”

“You’re gonna miss broadway to go back to that shithole?” It’s Alex’s voice, as it usually is. Mark seems to confide in her the most. 

“Well I’m definitely not sending him alone.” 

“Mark, it’s  _Broadway_.”

“I don’t think you understand..everything else is just kinda dull now. I don’t need extravagance or cool sights. This is so much more than enough for me.” His hand lifts and settles back down, like he’s gesturing to Ethan laying on him. 

“To think we used to make fun of Wade and Molly.” Alex teases. 

“I know, and I thought he was rushing into proposing after years with her. I’ve spent barely two weeks with him and I’m ready for it all.” 

“You’re fucked.”

“I’m also happy. Like, in such a genuine way that I can’t even explain.” 

There’s a bit of silence. Ethan can only assume they’re smiling at each other. He hates to eavesdrop, but Mark wouldn’t talk like this if he knew he was listening. It’s bizarre to hear that the man feels as strongly as he does. 

“I’m happy for you. It seems easy with you two, like it just comes naturally.” There’s a smile in Alex’s voice. 

“Yeah, I guess it does. It’s terrifying, though, at the same time. He could just up and leave at any point. Like, think of us at 18, could either of us have stayed doing what he’s doing for more than a month or so?”

“Definitely not. I was impulsively moving to Seattle for some shitty internship I didn’t actually wanna do.” 

“Exactly. What if he doesn’t actually want this? God, I sound like a bitch.” Mark laughs quietly at himself, but Ethan can’t help but frown. He can’t imagine himself not wanting Mark. He’s never wanted anything else more in his life. If anything, he was worried the man might find someone else with less problems to be with. 

Ethan rolls onto his back, yawning like he’s just woken up. His eyes were closed, so he blinks in the abrupt light. Mark’s smiling down at him when their eyes meet. 

“How long was I asleep for?” He asks. 

“An hour or so. We’re almost to Pennsylvania I think.” Mark’s eyes wander when Ethan stretches his arms above his head, and the man reaches down to pull his shirt down where it’s riding up, throat working. Ethan pretends it’s not on purpose, keeping his arms above his head and closing his eyes again. To be fair, Mark’s lap is pretty comfortable. 

“I’m gonna go have a quick stream, have the viewers help me write a letter home.” Alex stands up from her seat and makes her way back to the bunks. Ethan opens his eyes, taking Mark’s hand and spreading his fingers, pressing their palms together to compare. The man watches him amusedly, cheek resting against his fist on the back of the couch. 

“What’s this one?” Ethan tangles their fingers, and with his free hand touches a small tattoo of a flower. 

“A magnolia. No real reason behind it, I just was looking at the parlor’s catalogue and thought it was pretty.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Depends person to person. For me it’s just a dull ache, but if someone has a shit pain tolerance it can feel like being stabbed. Was getting this sleeve done back home and a dude next door was just screaming. He could only handle a few seconds of the needles at a time.” 

“Why get one, then?” Ethan asks, confused. 

“Also varies by person. The dude was getting a memorial piece for his daughter who passed. I just like them, the pain is almost comforting to me.” 

“Would I be able to handle it?” 

Mark untangles their fingers and reaches down, then he pinches Ethan’s wrist. 

“Ow.” The boy complains, even though it didn’t hurt too bad. Mark smooths over the spot immediately, gently. 

“You’d probably be fine, but might want to avoid spots where the skin’s thin over a bone. Are you actually considering it?” 

“Maybe.” He smiles shyly, having no clue what he might even ponder on getting tattooed forever, but the thought feels exciting. The ink looks really lovely on Mark’s skin, makes him look like he’s the lead singer of a band or something. Ethan’s never been attracted to tattoos until now. Then again, he hasn’t been attracted to much of anything before him. It’s as if nothing else could compare. As if he was just waiting for him. 

“Let me know if you do and we’ll find someone in the next stop.” 

Ethan sits up, turning and placing a hand on the man’s leg, right up in front of him so he can’t move away. He hesitates, wanting to reassure him that his fears won’t come true, but not wanting to reveal that he was eavesdropping. 

“Whats your family like? I want to be prepared when I meet them.” He asks carefully, and watches Mark smile like it’s the best question he’s ever asked. 

“My brother is a bit quiet. He’s an artist, too, actually. He does comics. My Nan is in her 90s and doesn’t speak much English, but if you’re kind then she’ll love you. Most of my cousins are young kids, so I’m sure you’ll find it easy to impress them.”

“Why do you say that?” 

“Just a hunch. I have a feeling you’re good with kids.”

“Is there a way to be bad with them?” 

“Yes, and with that my hunch is confirmed.” He grins and leans in to kiss his cheek, then he trails back to his ear, then his neck. Distracting. 

“Are you bad with them, then?”

“No, just seeing your thoughts on the topic.” 

Ethan blinks and pulls away from the man’s sweet kisses, eyes wide. 

“Why’re you talking like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re discussing two different things. I feel like I’m talking about cousins and you’re talking about, like,  _having_ kids.” 

Mark’s throat works as he swallows. His hand tightens around him like he’s going to run. Ethan feels guilty every time. He wishes the man would know he won’t ever run again. 

“Would that be a terrible thing?” 

“I mean, no, but..I-I’m 18.” 

Mark starts to laugh, and Ethan chews on his lip, embarrassed. 

“God, Ethan, I’m not talking about anytime soon. It’s just hypothetical. Future us. I just wanna know what you want. If there’s certain things you don’t. Just to avoid any misplaced expectations.” 

“I want everything.” He says it without thinking. It’s true, of course, but it’s a bold statement. Especially after not even two weeks within meeting each other. Ethan’s parents dated for 7 years before even engaging. Then again, if they weren’t so against divorce, perhaps they’d gotten one years ago. He finds it hard to believe they’re getting one now. What if Andrew lied about it all?

It doesn’t feel like he’s rushing into it. If anything, it feels the opposite. He feels like they’re moving too slow. He wants anything and everything Mark will give him and yet the man still hesitates. Because Ethan’s been through some things? Hasn’t everyone? 

“Me too. I just..I don’t love the idea of kids growing up in LA. I grew up in Ohio and hated LA the first handful of years I lived there.” 

“So you want to raise them in Ohio?” 

“Maybe. Or maybe we visit Korea and never come back.” 

“Are there Catholic churches in Korea?”

“I’m sure. You want to raise them Catholic?” 

“Only the good parts. Nothing like I got. Is that okay?”

“Take them to any church you’d like. Speaking of, do you want a Catholic wedding?” 

Ethan ponders this, heart absolutely racing. The once casual conversation has taken such an abrupt turn into unspoken territory, especially with two people who haven’t even laid properly together yet. But, it’s good to know that Mark does actually feel as strongly as he does, if he’s talking about marriage and kids. God, the thought of marrying Mark and having a family with him feels like a dream. 

“I’m not sure we’d find a priest willing to marry two men. God will be wherever we pick, it doesn’t need to be traditional.”

“Pets?”

“I’ve never had a dog. I also..I also only have a high school diploma.”

“Actually, I was already searching up about that a few days ago. There’s a university and a community college in LA if that’s something you’d like. But there’s also plenty of people who would pay a good buck for those paintings. Whatever you want is fine.”

“I didn’t learn much about college loans and stuff—“ Ethan starts. 

“Don’t worry about the money.” 

“I feel like I should. I don’t want to make you go broke for a college trial that might not even work out.” 

Mark sighs deeply and opens his phone back up, doing a bit of navigating and then setting the electronic in his palm. 

“You see this first number? That’s the money in my checking account to spend how I please. That second number is my savings for any big steps, such as an RV purchase or maybe college expenses.” 

“..oh.” Ethan mumbles, eyes wide at the phone screen. He knew Mark was famous or whatever, but he didn’t realise exactly what being famous might result in. He locks the phone and sets it back down, then leans his head on the man’s shoulder, hiding his pink cheeks. 

“Now for one that’s even bigger and more difficult to answer. If we go back to your hometown, do you want to press charges against..” Mark trails off, but it’s obvious who he’s talking about. Ethan’s suddenly glad he’s hiding his face. 

“Is there a reason to?” 

“I don’t have a say, but I know that if he did it to you, it’s likely he’s done it to others. If he’s in prison, he can’t hurt anybody else. But again, it’s not something you have to do. It would be horrible, mentally and physically.”

“Physically?”

“They’d have to do an exam.” 

“Even two years later?” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s mandatory. It would be a lot of interviewing, a lot of questioning and doubt towards you, and a trial where you’d have to see his face again and in the end it may not even result in prison time.”

“So what’s the point?”

“If the jury favours you, he probably will be put away for life. If you speak up, it may give another kid the courage to.” 

“Why do you know all of this?” 

“Research. Just in case.” Mark’s nails gently scratch over his back. It feels really nice. Ethan closes his eyes and tries to relax his suddenly tense muscles. His stomach turns just at the thought of seeing father George again. Even if they were across a whole room from each other, it still wouldn’t be enough space. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” Mark kisses at his head, and Ethan lifts his head so the next kiss falls on his lips. He wants to say that the man couldn’t possibly ruin his mood, but he doesn’t dare pull away from this. 

Instead, he thinks about their plan for a future. Thinks about waking up next to him every day for the rest of his life. Thinks about chasing a little miniature Mark in a backyard, a dog following along. The thought makes his heart flutter. 

Like he said, he’s only 18. And yet, he’s ready for it all. 

-

He’s going to go home. 

He can’t stop thinking about it, and it just sort of feels like something he needs to do. He decides to wait until after whatever broadway show Alex was mentioning. Mark said he was happy to drop it all, but he knows that can’t possibly be true. He’s messed up this road trip enough by now. 

Unfortunately for him, Mark is terribly observant. 

“You tired?” The man asks, stepping back into the bunks and crawling in with him, propping his head up and his free hand resting on his waist. 

“Thought I was but I can’t nap.” Ethan pouts and rolls to face him, hands tucked under his chin like a kid. 

“You seem preoccupied. Wanna talk? Or I can distract you.” He grins sinfully. Ethan giggles and touches his chest, feeling the warmth even over the layers. 

“Distraction, please.” 

Immediately, lips are on his. He closes his eyes and accepts the distraction thankfully. Mark rolls them over and fits between his legs, deepening the kiss. This feeling never gets old. Every time is like the first, mind numbing and perfect. Mark’s just sort of perfect as a whole. Always knows what to say, which way to move, what Ethan wants even before he knows it himself. 

“Are we leaving tomorrow?” The man asks between kisses, hand trailing lightly up his legs, soft enough that it tickles a bit. 

“Leaving for what?” Ethan pulls away to ask, tilting his chin up so Mark can do as he pleases. The man does, teeth grazing over his throat. 

“Your hometown. I assume you’ve decided to go.” 

“Can you read my mind?” 

“No, I’m just learning how you express yourself.” 

“What does that even mean?” 

Mark lifts his head up, and pushes his hair back from his face. It’s really hot. He reaches for Ethan and touches his thumb to the spot between his brows. 

“Even now you’re still frowning. You do it every time you think about your family and it’s only gotten more frequent since Andrew came.” 

“You notice everything.” Ethan sighs, honestly sort of impressed. He didn’t even realise he made certain faces when thinking of different things, though it makes sense. 

“Only when I’m very interested in the subject.” Mark smirks, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Ethan laughs and slaps at his shoulder weakly. 

“You’re supposed to be distracting me.” He complains, feeling exposed under Mark’s gaze. The man smiles and reaches below them, lifting one of Ethan’s legs by his knee, then presses them together with a new delicious angle. 

Ethan’s eyes flutter in pleasure as his worries seep out of his brain by the seconds. 

-

“Ive never been on a plane.” Ethan says, leg bouncing anxiously as they sit at their gate with their carry-ons. His thumbs fiddle together as he remembers his mother nicknaming planes “flying death crafts” 

“You don’t say.” Mark replies sarcastically, fingers touching at his shoulder comfortingly, arm laying over the back of the chair. Now that the man has admitted to observing him, Ethan can’t help but notice the staring. 

It’s flattering, and he doesn’t mind, but it makes him self conscious sometimes. What if Mark stares too hard and notices something that puts him off? He feels like he’s scrambling. He feels like maybe he couldn’t go. Maybe it really will just end in disappointment. More hurt than it’s worth. The possibility of seeing someone he wouldn’t want to see in that town. He’s not just scared of the plane. He’s scared of what will happen when they land. More than anything, he’s scared of the possible terrible things his family might say to Mark. 

“Maybe I should go alone—“

“Not a chance in hell.”

“They’re going to judge you. They might just say something horrible.”

“I fully expect them too. I’m not going on this trip to change your parent’s lifestyles. I am only going so they can’t trap you.” A voice calls their gate so Mark stands, giving Ethan a hand up and holding both of their carry-ons. He’s still a gentleman even during a serious conversation, like it’s just second nature. 

“I dont think they’re that extreme. I just wish they could be different. I wish I was going home to introduce you to my loving parents instead of going home to tell them I won’t be coming back.” 

“Yeah..me too.” Mark frowns as they board the plane, and he doesn’t stop frowning until midway through the flight when he falls asleep. Ethan watches him, and prays for this trip to end positively. For this trip to end in smiles instead of pain. For the both of them. 

—•M•—

Mark is already pissed off, and they’ve barely entered the small town. 

Ethan stares out of the window of the rental, lip in his teeth and fingers tapping anxiously. He seems rightfully nervous, but the obvious fear is what pisses him off. Last time they were here the boy left barely able to sit from wounds on his ass. 

It’s not hard to find the house. The town is so damn small Mark already remembers the layout. He thinks a visit to see Walker’s dog Chica might be in store soon. He really loves that dog. She’s also the reason they met. If Mark didn’t volunteer to take her to the dog park while everyone prepared for the party, he’d never have been there to see Ethan literally trip into his heart. 

He parks three houses down. A station wagon sits in the driveway, so they must be home. Ethan shifts in the passenger seat, not even moving to take off his seatbelt. Hesitating. Mark’s definitely fine with that. He for one is not looking forward to facing Ethan’s abusers and having to control himself. He can’t consider murder anymore, not when he has to protect his boy. 

Mark shrugs his denim jacket off, left in just a muscle shirt, all of his ink on display. A weird part of him wants the parents to be horrified. Wants them to talk shit, just so Mark can have a valid excuse for decking someone. Really, though, he hopes the tattoos just look threatening. He doesn’t want any of them to even come near Ethan. 

“I don’t know what your plan is, but no matter how this goes, they aren’t allowed to touch you. Is that okay?” 

“Don’t worry, I haven’t gotten a hug in this household in years. I doubt they’re planning on starting now.” Ethan laughs humourlessly, then he clicks his seatbelt off. Mark copies, not making any moves until the boy does. This isn’t about him. It’s about Ethan. 

“Do you want me to talk? Or, really, do you want me to stay quiet?” Mark rephrases. 

“I dunno. You can say something if you feel the need to. I don’t, like, have a plan. I sorta just want to go in, say I’m leaving forever, grab my old sketchbook, and then leave.” 

“If you want to do it that way, we can do it that way. It’s up to you.” 

Ethan takes a deep breath, and then turns his head, leaning across the console to kiss him. Mark smiles, touching at the boy’s chin. It’s sweet, nearly enough to make him forget what’s about to happen. 

“Actually, I do want you to do something.” Ethan pulls away to murmur, nose gently grazing his like an Eskimo kiss. 

“Anything.”

“No matter what they say, or what I say, I don’t want you to let go of my hand. It’ll help me say what I need.” 

Mark grins, heart melting as he agrees, because of course he will agree. How could he say no to something like that? He wants to hold hands all the time. Forever, maybe. 

Then they’re climbing out of the car. Mark slips the rental keys into his pocket and takes Ethan’s soft hand with the other, tangling their fingers. If people were outside of their homes right now, he’s sure they would be receiving many terrible looks. 

At the door, they hesitate again. There’s the faint sound of a tv inside and maybe a washing machine in the garage next to them, but not much else. 

“Do I knock or just go in?” Ethan asks in a quiet murmur, unsure how to go about his own family’s house. It would be funny if there wasn’t an anxious pit forming in both their stomachs. 

Mark takes the initiative, and rings the doorbell. Within seconds, an older man answers the door. He looks tired and unhappy, and he wears what pretty much every church dad wears. When he sees who waits at the door, his eyebrows raise about as high as they could go, and they settle down back into a discontented frown when he glances down to their joined hands. His lip curls like he’s about to say something a dumbass homophobe probably would. 

“We’re just here to get his things.” Mark jumps the cut. The man looks away, back into the house. 

“Good luck.” He says when he turns back, like as if it’s some big trek, then he opens the door wider and sits back on a raggedy couch, the tv heard from outside plays a baseball game. 

They step inside cautiously. Mark lets Ethan lead, since he isn’t familiar with the layout of the house. The boy brings him through a living room and down a hallway. He pauses at the first door on the left, eyes down at the handle. 

“What is it?” Mark asks in a murmur, glancing back in the direction of the dad behind them. He feels uneasy. Like it should’ve been harder to convince the man to let them in. 

“There’s a door handle. I was never allowed one.” The boy replies, eyebrows furrowed. He turns the handle and opens the door. Inside, the room is very bland. Just plain cream walls and a small bed pushed up in the corner. There’s next to nothing on the walls, and the dresser in the opposite corner looks unused. 

Ethan just stands there for a minute, then he steps inside, hand leaving his as he opens the top drawer of the dresser. It’s empty. He then moves to the closet, sliding the doors open to find it empty. 

“They got rid of everything.” 

Both of them turn to see Andrew standing in the doorway, arms crossed. His jaw is tight, and he looks guilty. Probably for good reason. 

“Even the blanket gran made me when I was a kid?” Ethan asks. Andrew’s silence is enough. 

Mark knows it’s going to happen before it does, so he’s there to pull Ethan in his arms just before the boy starts to cry. He turns them so he can keep an eye on the door while holding Ethan up. He’s pissed off beyond belief. Surely they didn’t fully get rid of everything, right?

“Did they donate anything? Throw it in an attic?” Mark asks. 

“They took it all and burned it in the pit the night after he left.” 

Ethan pulls away from his arms and takes a deep shaky breath, palms pressing into his wet eyes. He tries to compose himself but has a hard time. For good reason, though. Everything he owned is gone. 

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to say anything. I just want to leave.” The boy says shakily, then he turns back to the closet and tries to lift one of the floorboards for some reason. His hands are shaking terribly, so he just scratches at the board. 

Mark bends down next to him and does it himself, fitting a finger in the crack and lifting the loose board. Hidden inside is a large plastic bag with a small bundle of clothing inside. He lifts the bag out and looks at Ethan questionably. 

“Evidence.” The boy murmurs, replacing the board with a deep exhale. Mark blinks in surprise and looks back at the bag. He flips it around and sees the blood, dried up on a pair of briefs. His mother had washed the shorts, but Ethan had kept the rest of the clothes he was wearing, as if he’d known he would need them someday. 

Mark takes his hand and immediately leads him out of the room, away from the brother who just stands there uselessly. 

A woman is waiting near the front door, wearing a button up shirt that’s tucked into a long skirt. She has Ethan’s nose, while everything else seems to be from his dad. 

“You might need this.” She says, then holds out a small folder. Mark steps forward and takes it warily. Inside is Ethan’s birth certificate, his social security card, his medical records. Everything he thought he’d have to replace. 

“Surprised you didn’t burn it.” Ethan says, thankfully not trusting the gesture just as much as he doesn’t. 

“You be thankful I kept them, little one. You’ll realise how much I’ve sacrificed for you one day—“

“You’re going to burn in hell.” Ethan says, voice shaky but he spits the words like poison. It makes sense, though, when the woman’s face turns sour. She steps forward, and so does Mark. 

“Stay away from him.” He says, and watches the dad stand up from the couch and step up next to the mom. A fight just might be imminent. Mark hands the folder and plastic bag to Ethan so his hands are free. Just in case. 

“Despite his sins, he’s still our son, and we have every right to be as close as we’d like.” The man states, stepping closer. Mark stands his ground, one arm behind himself keeping Ethan in place. 

“Touch him and I’ll break your fucking teeth.” He says lowly. The parents look to each other in surprise. 

“You have no right—!” 

“No,  _you_ have no right. You knew he was raped, you knew he was depressed. You told him it was his fault. You told him his gift for art was useless. Everything you view as his failures are yours, and because of it you will never see him again. Move out of the way before I make you move.” 

The two of them step out of the way to the door, and Mark leads him out onto the porch. Ethan’s hand leaves his, and he swirls around to see the father has taken the boy’s arm. 

“You must pray for forgiveness, homosexuality—“ 

Ethan moves before he can, yanking his arm from his father and swinging his hand back, then fucking socking him right in the nose. The man falls back with a shout, hand coming up to try and cover the blood that gushes from his nose. Since Ethan is shorter, he’s just happened to get the perfect angle to break it. 

Mark takes the boy’s hand and pulls him away from the scene. They rush back to the car. Once inside, he turns to see the boy is cradling his hand to his chest, breathing accelerated. 

“Oh my god, that was fucking awesome. Here, lemme see.” Mark laughs, surprised out of his mind that Ethan stood up for himself. 

“I think I broke it.” The boy says, then he starts to laugh too, adrenaline clearly pumping through his veins as he holds his hand out for him. Mark takes it, seeing his knuckles are bloodied up. His ring and pinky fingers are swelling, clearly broken. 

“Yep, but so is his nose. Sorry, didn’t think I’d have to teach you how to fight. Gotta use your first two knuckles because these two are weaker.” He gently places the boy’s hand on his thigh and picks up his phone, finding a route to a clinic so they can get him a brace. 

“I can’t believe I did that. I’m going to get in trouble, aren’t I?” 

“No, love. He touched you first after multiple warnings not to. It was self defence.” He assures, placing his phone in the holder as the route starts. He helps Ethan click his seatbelt into place so he doesn’t have to use his hand, and presses the car into drive. They’ve passed up one house when Andrew comes running out, waving an arm for them to stop. Mark does, rolling down his own window just in case. Andrew crosses in front of the car and leans down, then hands him a worn sketchbook with little doodles all over it. 

“I had hidden it, took a minute to get it out. It’s all I had time to grab that day.” 

“Why did you tell me to come back if nothing had changed? Why did you lie?” Ethan asks, taking the sketchbook but not looking any more happy. 

“I thought it might change something. I hoped it would. I know it was selfish but when you left all their anger switched to me. I never realised how bad it was until it was happening to me. I just never noticed, I’m sorry. I know it’s not much, but if you take that evidence to trial, I’ll be a witness to our parent’s neglect. I know it doesn’t mean I’ll be forgiven, but it’s all I can do. When I say I’m sorry I mean it.” He’s in near tears, desperate for his brother’s forgiveness. 

Mark turns back to Ethan, letting him decide on what to say. The boy chews on the inside of his lip, eyes at his lap. He clutches the sketchbook with his uninjured hand so tightly his knuckles are white. 

“Of course I forgive you, but I don’t know if I will be pressing any charges yet. I haven’t decided.” 

“Okay. I’m sorry it got this bad. I just—I don’t know if it’s a fault of our upbringing or my own, but even though I don’t exactly agree with your, uh, lifestyle, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I hope we can still talk someday.” 

“Maybe.” Ethan sighs, still not looking at the man. His lips are pressed in a thin line. He’s having trouble accepting these words. It makes sense, though. It sounds almost unbelievable. Like he’s grasping at straws. Or maybe he actually does regret his actions. Mark doesn’t feel like waiting around to find out. 

“Well, we gotta get going before we miss our flight.” 

Andrew nods and steps away from the window. As Mark drives away, he sees the man watch them go with crossed arms. He stays watching the entire time he’s within site. 

“I thought we were getting a room here?” 

“We are. Just didn’t feel like letting him know we’ll still be in town tonight. You okay?”

“No idea.” Ethan huffs and looks out of the window, cheeks flushed from the excitement that still hasn’t worn away. Mark glances over as much as he can while driving, wishing he could say something that would make it better. 

-

“You wanna watch a movie or just sleep?” 

“Movie is good.” Ethan sets his duffle down in the hotel room and sheds everything but his briefs, climbing into bed with a heaving sigh. They’re both exhausted from the day. Mentally, mostly. 

Mark chucks on whatever shitty late night movie is on and climbs in with him, taking his braced hand and making sure the splints are still in place. 

“No drawing for a while.” The boy pouts, eyes big and sad. Mark tilts his head and tucks the boy’s hair from his face. 

“Sorry. I should’ve convinced you to stay in New York. We never should’ve come.” 

“No, I’m glad we did. Now I won’t wonder if I was wrong to leave. Now I know it was the right thing to do.” 

“M’proud of you.” Mark smiles, kissing his temple. Ethan chuckles, touching his chest softly, eyes fluttering closed as he’s peppered with kisses. 

“Because I assaulted my father?” 

“I was going to say because of how much you’ve overcome, but yeah the punch was pretty hot.” 

“Guess I gotta get a tattoo now.” 

Mark laughs against his skin, very content to just watch the movie and sleep, but Ethan seems to have a different idea. He pulls away so their eyes meet as his hand wanders, tickling down his chest and sliding under his shirt. His touch is electrifying. 

“You’ve changed my life.” The boy sighs, leg slowly twisting with his. Mark swallows carefully as he’s touched, trying not to let it distract him. 

“Likewise.” He replies, moistening his lips as Ethan leans in, face going blurry because they’re so close. He brushes their lips together but doesn’t kiss him, taking his wrist and leading his hand further down from his waist. Lower and lower to his ass. Mark can’t help it when it’s given, squeezing him. 

“We were waiting until you knew everything, and now you do. So what are we waiting for?” Ethan asks, then kisses him very softly. Mark’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to resist. The boy is right, he knows everything now, but he still feels like they need to take it slow. Still feels like it’s too early. 

“I dunno, why rush into it?” 

“I’m not rushing, I’m ready. I want it all.” As if Mark didn’t know what he was referring to, the boy’s hand drifts lower and lower and pops the button on his jeans. He lets his pants be shoved down onto his thighs, then Ethan hooks his fingers in the waist of his briefs and raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t want to hurt you again.” Mark whispers, remembering Ethan’s face of terror the last time they were like this, at the last hotel. Even with his hesitation, he lifts his hips so the boy can slide his briefs off. Then there’s nimble fingers wrapping around him, squeezing him. 

“I trust you.” Ethan promises, literally seducing him with his touch. Mark pulls him closer, stomach swirling hotly as Ethan pulls him off, just staring at him with bright blue eyes. It’s almost too much and it’s barely anything yet. 

“Ethan, I dont know..” 

The boy looks right in his eyes, then shifts his own hips forward. Just in briefs, it’s easy to feel how hard he is when he presses against Mark. 

“Want you, please,” he lifts his head and presses a kiss below Mark’s ear, whispering while he’s there, “I love you.”

Mark takes a shaky breath, helpless. He rolls them over so he’s on top, breathing accelerating. It’s been said many times now in actions and implications, but to hear it said out loud is a different ball game. 

“Don’t say that just so I’ll give you sex.”

“M’not. I’m saying it so you know how much I’m ready for. So you know I’m not just horny. I want everything. I want—“

Mark kisses him, hand yanking off the boy’s briefs at the same time. Ethan isn’t running. He isn’t second guessing. He loves him, and Mark loves him right back. Has for a while now. 

He’s desperate, then. Shaking with his haste to find the lube, tossed haphazardly into his duffel bag. Ethan lies back and watches him, grasping the duvet in anticipation. He stays on top, spreading Ethan’s legs and pressing a wet finger to him. 

The boy pulls him down, kissing him. Despite his promises that he’s ready, he looks nervous anyway, eyebrows furrowed as he’s stretched. 

“Tell me if you don’t like it, okay? Don’t pretend you’re okay.” Mark pulls away from the kiss so their eyes can meet. Ethan nods, hands gripping at his shoulders like he’s impatient. 

“Okay. I’m ready, I swear.” 

Mark spends more time than necessary prepping him, avoiding his prostate for later. Ethan makes little noises every time he pumps his fingers. It’s so damn hot. 

As he rolls the condom on, Mark watches Ethan’s face carefully, waiting for him to back out. The boy seems to notice. He cups his cheek and combs his hair from his face, as if Mark is the one needing reassurance. 

“It’s going to hurt.”

“I know. I trust you.” Ethan says again. Mark takes a breath and stabilises himself with a hand on the pillow next to the boy’s head. He keeps their eyes locked as he starts to press into him almost unbearably slow. Ethan grasps his forearm, eyebrows furrowing. No amount of lube and prepping can prepare him for this. 

Mark’s hand curls into a fist as he’s engulfed in the warmth. It’s incredibly tight. He forces himself to keep the slow pace, no matter how much he wants to just press in all the way. It feels so damn good. 

When he bottoms out, he lowers his head to kiss the boy, trying to calm himself. Ethan is near silent, eyes squeezed shut. Mark places a hand over his heart, feeling it’s staccato pounding of a beat. 

“Breathe, baby. Tell me when it stops hurting.” 

Ethan complies, exhaling a shutter of a breath, fingers tightening where he’s gripping Mark’s arm. 

“Okay, I’m okay.” He whispers. Mark gives him another five seconds, then he begins to very slowly fuck him, jaw tight to control himself. He has to be patient, but it feels so damn good he can hardly handle it. 

“Fuck.” He hisses as Ethan squeezes around him, as if he’s pulling him in. Mark’s hips stutter forward without permission, bottoming out quicker than he’d intended. 

He stops, hand placing on the boy’s waist. 

“Are you okay? Hard to go slow—“

“Don’t go slow.” Ethan mumbles, lifting his arms above his head, legs spreading completely under him. Just giving himself up. 

“Ethan—“

“Please. H-harder.” 

Mark closed his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s never been so turned on in his life. He might actually pass out. Tucking a hand under Ethan’s knee, he lifts his leg up to change the angle slightly, then starts up his slow thrusting again. This time, he’s aiming for the best spot. 

Ethan’s back arches as his prostate is hit, mouth falling open with a gasp. 

Mark pulls out slowly, then slams back into him, skating them both up the bed a few centimetres. Harder, as Ethan asked. It’s so fucking good. He’s definitely not going to last long. Thankfully, Ethan seems to be just as gone, eyes lidded, fingers desperately trying to hold on as he’s fucked. 

“Is it good?” Mark asks, leaning over and kissing his neck, barely giving him time to answer as he continues his thrusting. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ethan whines, hands skating up his arms and holding onto his shoulders instead. He’s so beautiful, lips pink from kissing, parted slightly. His hair is starting to stick to his forehead with sweat. His eyes are nearly fully closed, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. Mark can’t look away. Ever again. 

“Close?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Ethan nods vehemently, so Mark lowers down closer to him and pulls his leg up higher, nearly folding him in half, then just starts to slam into him over and over, faster than before. 

Ethan gets loud, then. Moaning like he can’t even take it, fingernails digging into his shoulders just like that time in the RV. He comes first, toes curling, Mark’s name falling from his lips so sweetly. It’s beautiful. 

Mark presses into him a few more times then follows suit, Ethan spasming around him deliciously. It’s the best sex he’s ever had in his life. As he comes down from the orgasm, he feels very abruptly emotional. Wants to propose right then and there. Wants to whisk him out of this town and as far away as possible. Better than he did before. Give him a house and a dog and kids and everything he’s ever wanted. Help him forget his past and find his happiness. 

Then, his post-nut clarity eases away as he pulls out of him and tosses the condom. He remembers that the boy is only 18, and all of their steps have to be taken slowly. He can’t overwhelm him all at once. 

“Wanna shower?” Mark asks, using his tossed briefs to wipe the drying come from Ethan’s chest. The boy sits up, cheeks pink and smile playing at his lips. He climbs out of the bed shakily and takes his hand as they walk to the bathroom. 

In the shower, Mark gently rubs a soap-filled loofah over Ethan’s back, then he fits himself up against him, arms around his waist, washing his chest from behind. Just an excuse to hold him. 

“I love you.” He murmurs while he’s there, lips to Ethan’s ear. The boy turns in his arms so they’re facing each other, and tilts his chin up for a kiss. Mark gives it to him, quickly forgetting the loofah in favour of running his hands over his soapy back instead. 

“I love you too. I’m sorry our first time was in this town.” Ethan pouts, fingers tangling in his hair. 

“Well, it’s sort of fitting. We met here, after all. It’s nice to put some good memories here instead of all bad.” 

Ethan smiles, seeming to like the thought. He lies his head on his chest as they sway in the water, both of them carelessly forgetting their wash. 

“You make me happy. I feel happy.”

Mark grins, heart pounding with love. 

“That’s all I want.” He kisses him again, and again, and thinks he’ll probably never stop. 

—•E•—

Ethan decides nearly a month later. 

He’s sat in their living room, still not used to it being “their” living room, and stares at the empty canvas, sat up on the nice easel Mark bought him. His fingers are healed, so he can paint just fine. With his online art store being set up, he sort of needs to be getting the art itself done. 

It’s just, things feel unfinished. He can’t stop thinking about what Mark had said about some other kid also not having the courage to speak up. Can’t stop thinking about father George ruining another young boy’s happiness. His innocence. 

He stands up from the couch and sets his unused brush down, padding up the stairs and down the hall. He knows Mark is streaming, but he thinks the earlier the man knows the better they can prepare, mentally and physically. 

“Mark?” He opens the door just enough to peek his head in. The man is mid-stream, playing some colourful jumpy game, probably with Bob and Wade. 

“What’s up?” Mark asks, glancing back at him. He does a double-take, then he takes his headphones off, tapping a key on his keyboard, “you okay, love?” 

“Yeah, sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to..” he hesitates, eyes looking to the chat on one of his monitors. 

“I’m muted, it’s alright.” Mark reassures, looking nervous. He still seems to think Ethan’s going to bolt. It’s probably going to take a long time for that to fade away. 

“I wanted to let you know I’ve decided to press charges. Against father George. As soon as we have time.” He chews on his lip anxiously. Mark’s eyes widen and he stands up from his stream, walking over and pulling the door open wider, taking his hand. 

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. I don’t want him to ever hurt anyone else.” 

Then, Mark’s grinning and pulling him in, spinning him around the room as if he was just told the best news of all time. Ethan laughs as he’s spun, loving that the man just doesn’t care about the thousands of people watching. 

“I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.” Mark sets him back on his feet and they share a kiss. 

“Mmm, you want some food? I’ve been getting into cooking lately.” Ethan asks, smile uncontrollable. 

“We both know I’ll always eat. Don’t take too long, when I end stream I’m taking you to bed.” He murmurs suggestively, hand squeezing his bum out of view of the camera. Ethan grins and backs out of the room. Mark sits back at his chair, eyes on him the whole time. 

He shuts the door but stays right there, feeling dizzy with love. 

“Guys, It’s not my news to share, chill out. Yes, he’s fine. We’re both fine.” Mark’s voice carries through the door. Ethan stays where he is, eavesdropping by accident but not really caring to stop. 

“Okay, okay. So we all know I’m the strongest guy on the planet, right? With these guns, of course,” Ethan rolls his eyes fondly as he listens, used to Mark’s narcissist camera persona by now, “well, Ethan’s stronger. He’s the strongest person I know, and that’s all I’m going to tell you.” 

Then he’s thanking people for subscribing and it’s back to goofing off with Bob and Wade. Ethan smiles and walks away from the door, back to the living room where the easel still waits, untouched for nearly a whole month. His plan to make food drifts away as he looks at the blank space. 

Chewing on his lip, he picks up the brush, twirling it in his hand thoughtfully. After a moment, he lifts the top on his paint crate and removes one of the tubes. On his palette, he squeezes a few drops out, knowing a little can go a long way. 

He dips his brush into the deep crimson, then his inspiration takes over him, and he’s painting the picture in his mind, his worries for what’s to come fading away as he indulges in his favourite thing to do. 

Scratch that, second favourite. He quite likes cuddling Mark. Or maybe kissing is number one. Or maybe anything with him is number one. It’s funny that Mark said he was the strongest person the man knows, because all of his strength comes from him. Mark is the reason he found that strength. If it weren’t for him, Ethan would still be in his hometown. Sad, lonely, no hope for any sort of future, wondering how it would feel to jump off bridges, daydreaming the days away to distract himself. 

He smiles, washing his brush and dipping into black next. He doesn’t need to daydream anymore. Ethan almost didn’t realise how long it’s been since he has. Didn’t even notice how it became less and less frequent until now. Of course, he still has moments of despair. Times when he feels lost and alone despite not actually being either. It’s a slow process to heal himself, and thankfully he doesn’t have to do it by himself. He could laugh at who he was before he’d met Mark. Depressed and daydreaming at the kitchen table. 

He’s a painter with an online store in the process. He’s sharing a huge house in the hills of LA with the man he loves. He’s going to press charges against the man who hurt him, and he’s going to come out of it stronger than before. He paints on a canvas and he smiles, truly happy, finally. 

This time, there is no blinking out of the picture in his mind, because it’s true. It’s his life now. He is that painter. He is that happy guy sharing the house with that perfect partner. 

Speaking of, he hears the door upstairs open and close, and the floor creaking as Mark makes his way down. He’s ended the stream. 

Ethan smiles and sets his brush in the cup of water and sits on the couch, looking over the base of the painting. It’s going to be a good one. As he waits for Mark to take him to bed, he lies his head back and grins. 

No real reason for it, he just feels the urge to smile. Content and happy exactly where he is. 

**Author's Note:**

> PLS take the time to read this note:
> 
> I’ve asked before how you guys prefer fics being written, so now that I’ve posted this I have examples. All of these questions can be answered with “neutral” if you enjoy both options!! All feedback will be very useful for future fics!
> 
> 1) do you prefer a single or switching POV? Such as, the whole story being in Ethan’s POV, vs one like this where it switches back and forth. 
> 
> 2) do you prefer a long/detailed/more filler fic like this one, or shorter (5-15k words) fics like my previous ones? 
> 
> 3) do the Instagram update posts help you see I’ve posted a fic, or do you find out just by coming on ao3? 
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to answer these! Of course, longer fics means more time in between posts, but if yall prefer it I’ll stop stressing about personal deadlines. Also, question 3 is merely so I know if the insta update posts are worth posting or not! 
> 
> Thanks guys 💚


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